


Into your heart

by stripedraccoon



Series: Worth the pain [3]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Aimiya friendship, Angst, Drama, M/M, Ohno/Nino - Freeform, Top!Ohno, multi-chaptered, romance? kind of, several mentions of smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stripedraccoon/pseuds/stripedraccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third and last part of my unplanned Ohmiya series. / Nino decides to finally change something about the situation, with severe consequences. For himself, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! First of all, as I already mentioned above, this is the third part to my unplanned Ohmiya fic. I ask everyone to please read the other two parts ([part one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/943944), [part two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/949054)) before starting to read this one.
> 
> Also I should mention that this fic will be a lot longer than the previous parts. I am basically done with the whole fic (read: I have written it almost completely), but I will post it in several chapters over the next days/weeks (maybe one chapter a week? I'll see) because I feel like this fic fits a multi-chaptered pattern better than a one-shot pattern. 
> 
> Rated "Mature" for possible sexual content later on.
> 
> As always, comments are more than welcome. I hope you'll enjoy it! Have fun. :)
> 
> And a big big big thank you to the best beta reader in the world, lovely [radhaj](http://archiveofourown.org/users/radhaj) ❤

Nino is still snuggled tightly against Ohno when Ohno wakes up, the collar of his shirt feeling damp against his neck, almost wet. His headache is ridiculously strong, his head feeling like it is a hundred kilos heavy, throbbing with pain, and all Ohno wants for the moment is a glass of ice-cold water and aspirin. He feels like shit.

Ohno looks down at his own, clothed but weirdly sticky feeling body, and then there is Nino next to him; tiny, pale, skinny Nino. Naked Nino. Ohno pulls the blanket away a bit, just to make sure, and then he roughly pushes at Nino’s shoulder.

Nino snaps awake instantly, his body alert, his eyes a bit reddened but mostly clear and tired as he looks up to Ohno. He remembers the last night immediately, and backs away from Ohno obviously, pulling a bit of blanket with himself so he can cover his own body.

“What the fuck?” Ohno hisses, and he looks dead-pissed. Nino isn’t sure how much of this is directed at Nino himself and how much at the obvious hangover he suffers from. Nino has one, too, but he doesn’t feel too awful. He had drunk quite a bit less than Ohno after all, and he can deal with a slight headache.

“What?” Nino finally manages to ask back, his voice controlled, but he can’t bear looking at Ohno anymore. He has to keep it together, just keep it together for a little longer.

“Why are you naked?” Ohno asks sharply.

Nino frowns, confused; he doesn’t understand the question. Ohno had undressed him personally after all. He _knows_ why Nino is naked. _Why aren’t_ _you naked_ , Nino wants to bite back angrily, but he doesn’t, because Ohno speaks first.

“We _didn’t_ —did we?”

Nino’s abdomen throbs in pain at those words, and they hit Nino in the face like a brick. He winces back and loses his facial expression completely, looking emptily at the bed sheets before him, sparsely covering up his naked body. The meaning of Ohno’s words only slowly sinks into his mind, but the stuttered out question is unmistakable.

 

Ohno doesn’t _remember_. Ohno doesn’t remember last night.

 

And he obviously sounds so disgusted at the plain imagination of having slept with Nino that his chest convulses painfully. _So blowjobs are okay_ , Nino realizes, and he feels both hurt and angry, _but once_ I _get included in it, it’s not okay anymore. Once all of this chaos turns into more than just me quickly taking care of your primal needs, it’s too much._

“No, we did not,” Nino confirms almost immediately. His heart is broken already; there is nothing more to destroy. He feels so small and unimportant under Ohno’s gaze it is ridiculous.

“Why—“ Ohno starts again, and he still sounds mad, “Why are you naked then, and why am I in your bed instead of my own?” He asks matter-of-factly, cocking his head back. Nino doesn’t see it.

“I wanted to drive you home last night,” Nino answers back, and he isn’t even lying during this part. That doesn’t change the fact, though, that his voice is absolutely empty, and his hands are tightly fisted into the bed sheets under the blanket so he can keep it together. It is so hard he can barely breathe.

“But you didn’t allow me to,” Nino continues, “You said I was too drunk, I should just take you home in a cab. I _was_ drunk, so I told the driver my address instead of yours. When we ended up here and I realized my mistake, you didn’t want to get driven to your place alone anymore, so you came in with me.”

“And then you got naked,” Ohno cuts in without missing a beat. Nino winces.

“Then I sucked you off,” Nino corrects, staring emptily into his lap, shivering. He knows he is lying about last night, but he also knows he couldn’t bear Ohno’s reaction if he told him the truth now—Ohno would possibly hate him forever, possibly beat him up, blame it all on Nino alone. And he would clearly, once and for all, _reject_ Nino, scream at him perhaps, and claim how Nino wants to ruin him. Him and his damned relationship with his girlfriend.

And all of that isn’t true. It is as simple as the fact that Nino loves Ohno more than anything—has, for years—and he would never want to ruin _anything_ for Ohno. All he wants is to _have_ Ohno, to _be_ with him, but he can’t—so he tries to adapt, tries to take and get by with the little bit of Ohno he _can_ have. They had just both been drunk last night, and now that Nino is sober, he—he doesn’t _regret_ it, but it doesn’t change the fact that all of it is a result of two men being drunk, not the result of Nino wanting to break Ohno’s trust, let alone his relationship with his girlfriend.

But Ohno wouldn’t understand any of it, and so lying is easier. Lying makes sure they can at least keep their relationship the way it had been until last night.

“That’s why you still have all of your clothes on”, Nino explains further, his voice sounding as tiny as Nino himself is, naked and slightly curled up in the bed, looking lost and defenceless.

“And why are _you_ naked then?” Ohno still doubts him; it is glaringly obvious. Some part of Nino feels hurt because Ohno seems not to trust him at all, not even a little.

“Because I wanked off afterwards,” he says quietly, though, not even feeling embarrassed to admit such a thing. “And then I didn’t bother putting on clothes again. You know, we wanted to sleep after all, and this is kind of _my_ bed.” Nino loosens his fingers from the bed sheets to cross them in front of his chest instead, and he tries his best to keep the slight trembling under control.

“And then you hugged yourself to me like that?” Ohno continues imploring, and Nino almost loses it.

“I was _drunk_ , Satoshi! _We_ were drunk!” He hisses, his eyes clear and angry when he looks over to Ohno who seems to be still half-asleep, like he doesn’t really _care_ —Nino doesn’t even want to _think_ about it. “I just did, so what? Like we _don’t_ do that sometimes! Why does it even bother you?!”

There is silence for a while as Nino is looking up to Ohno, rage burning in his eyes. What is Ohno even thinking? Since when have they moved from being best friends to being fuck buddies (or something like that) _without_ the friendship aspect? Nino doesn’t understand it, and this hurts _so much more_ than just being rejected.

But some kind of emotion flickers through Ohno’s eyes and washes over his whole face, an emotion Nino cannot quite pin-point, and Ohno’s facial features finally soften a little. He nods.

“You’re right, Kazu,” he simply says, sighing inaudibly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Nino only now notices how his whole body had been completely tense, but at Ohno’s soft and almost apologetic words, he slightly sinks back into the bed again. He doesn’t know what to say, so he simply nods as well. The situation and the atmosphere both feel awkward—at least to Nino, who knows that last night so much _more_ has happened than just a simple blowjob, and for the first time ever he feels like they should stop all of this. Completely.

_Or_ , Nino thinks, _this is not quite right._ I _should stop it._

Ohno doesn’t even do _anything_ , ever, literally. He doesn’t fight back, he doesn’t protest, but he doesn’t initiate anything either. When Nino sneaks a hand around Ohno’s hips and starts to skilfully rub him through his pants, Ohno pliantly lets it happen; when Nino drops to his knees, gently nudges Ohno’s legs apart and goes down on him, Ohno doesn’t protest.

But he never _asks_ for it either. It is _Nino_ —it always is, and maybe, maybe it is just better if he stops it right here. It is only a matter of time until he would break completely under the mental torture he is forcing upon himself for years now; and neither Ohno nor Arashi would deserve such an emotional disaster.

“Do you have aspirin?” Ohno mumbles grumpily, rubbing his forehead, and Nino feels how his mouth quirks up in the tiniest of smiles, despite everything. His heart is still throbbing, but like always, he can’t do anything about it. And at least Ohno’s phone isn’t ringing right now, and it hopefully won’t for a while.

“Yeah,” he says and slowly gets up from the bed—slowly, _slowly_ , wrapping the blanket all around his body, covering the faint bruises on his hips from Ohno’s tight grip last night and the too many hickeys and other bruises covering his chest and neck, made by Ohno as well. It is better if Ohno doesn’t get suspicious again, and it is better if Nino doesn’t have to be reminded of last night again either. Not now, and not ever again in the future.

Regardless of the fact that this _has_ happened in reality, with Ohno not remembering, all of it is worth nothing more than a mere dream, after all. One of the million dreams involving Ohno Satoshi that have been haunting Nino ever since he has fallen in love with this man. It is a bitter feeling deep down in his chest, and the lump forming in Nino’s throat is just proof of it.

Nino makes his way to the kitchen, taking care not to limp as long as Ohno can see him, and while he inwardly slowly and weakly starts to try and wrap his mind around the idea of giving Ohno up for good, Nino knows it will kill a part of himself as well.

Nino doesn’t want to admit it, but that part might be more than he could take losing.

He almost stumbles over his own clothes on the way to the kitchen, and he quickly gathers them up, not wanting Ohno to see them here. He even puts them on again, at least his shirt and the pair of jeans, so he wouldn’t have to walk around in the blanket anymore. The t-shirt doesn’t properly cover the hickeys, but, Nino thinks, he could lie about them. It is not the first time Ohno has ‘lost control’ and caused a few bruises on Nino’s neck.

His body is still aching when he reaches the kitchen and takes a couple aspirin himself before taking some more aside to bring to Ohno, together with a glass of water. When his eyes unconsciously slide over the rice cooker and his stomach growls simultaneously, Nino decides to prepare a quick breakfast as well. If he has to give up on Ohno for real, if they are going to not spend as much time together as they used to (because that _is_ clearly what Nino is planning on, or he would go crazy), they could, perhaps, at least enjoy a last breakfast together. Nino chuckles at how ridiculously bittersweet all of this sounds in his head, like a bad movie.

After having checked in the fridge for some more food and remembering how he, fortunately, had just been out grocery shopping yesterday, Nino wanders back to the bedroom, aspirin in one hand and a glass of water in the other one.

“Oh-chan,” he says before he has even entered the bedroom completely, Ohno’s nickname sounding so incredibly familiar and light on his tongue that he feels warm every time he says it, “I actually—“

Nino breaks off once he has fully entered the bedroom and looks up; Ohno is lying lazily on the bed, a lovesick smile plastered all over his face, as he is just about to close his cellphone. Nino doesn’t know whether he should feel happy or depressed because Ohno had apparently just been talking to his girlfriend. But this is something he has to get used to, right? This aspect of Ohno’s life is something Nino has to finally wrap his mind around, too, if he wants to endure all of this trouble without either ruining himself, their relationship or Arashi.

Fighting off the pang of jealousy in his chest, Nino walks over to the bed and hands Ohno both the medicine and the glass of water, smiling.

“I actually turned on the rice cooker for some breakfast,” he continues his sentence from before, trying to sound casual—trying to sound like this _isn’t_ basically the last time Nino actively plans to spend some quality time with Ohno alone before he will never initiate anything ever again. “I also bought some fish and vegetables yesterday, we could have breakfast—“

“Can’t,” Ohno interrupts him on his own this time. He has just swallowed down the pills with some water and now places the glass loudly on the nightstand; to Nino the movement almost looks aggressive.

“Shiori-chan called,” Ohno elaborates further when Nino doesn’t say anything back, “She asked if we could have breakfast together because she is at my place right now and was staying up all night for me, but I didn’t come home.” Ohno sighs. “She sounded worried. I’m such an idiot.”

Nino doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment anymore this time, and his smile drops from his face within a split second. Even Ohno who has been looking up to him rather sleepily until now seems to notice, and he opens his mouth to say something more.

“Right,” is all Nino answers back, though, cutting Ohno off, and he has turned away from him before the other man can protest, “I see.”

It is ridiculous how much his heart is hurting, but he feels so awfully rejected; feels like as long as _Shiori-chan_ is calling for Ohno, Nino’s existence doesn’t even _matter_ to his ex-best-friend anymore. Nino can remember how there had been a time where he had felt like he was the most treasured, most precious person in Ohno’s life, a time where he had felt like as long as they had each other, nothing else— _no one_ else had mattered.

But Nino seems to have slept through the part where Ohno had suddenly stopped thinking like that.

Ohno is getting up from the bed now, and Nino decides to flee. He has had enough, and this is it: Ohno has hurt him enough for a lifetime or two, and it is not going to get both of them anywhere.

“Feel free to shower, I’m in the livingroom,” he shortly explains, “have a nice day with Shiori-san.” There, he had said it— _have a nice day with Shiori-san_. And Nino doesn’t even mean it, at all, but it sounds pretty convincing anyway.

He is out of the bedroom before Ohno can answer and shuts the door to his livingroom behind himself noisily, indirectly saying _don’t you come in here_ , before pathetically curling up on the couch. His cellphone is still in the pocket of his pants from last night, and considering Nino really doesn't have anything better to do while he is waiting for Ohno to leave his apartment, he pulls it out and snaps it open.

_That was my fabulous night with the one and only Ohno Satoshi_ , he thinks bitterly while skimming through his messages. _Thanks, really. Thanks for absolutely nothing._

There is a message from his manager, sent ten minutes ago, and since it says “important” in the subject headline, Nino decides to open it.

 

_»_ _Good morning, Ninomiya-kun!_ _«_ , it reads, _»_ _We unexpectedly received an offer for a photo-shoot and an interview from a magazine, featuring you. It is a very good opportunity to promote your latest drama. I know today was actually your day off, but… It starts at 11AM, so please message me back to approve of it if you don’t have any urgent personal matters to attend. Iwata_ _«_

 

Usually, Nino would probably be annoyed at his manager for such a message on his day off, but at this very moment where distraction is more than welcome, he types back a _no problem, I’ll be there_ without hesitation.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, Ninomiya-san,” the interviewer asks after a long day of photo-shoots and a lot of questions, trying to wrap the interview up, “Now, to round this off, we could talk a little bit about Arashi. Our readers are great fans of Arashi, and excited for any news you could reveal. How would you describe the atmosphere in Arashi, among the members? What would you say has changed through all the years of being together, and what is still the same? Do you like how things are going?”

The main thing Nino doesn’t like right at this very moment is the fact that his entire body is craving nicotine; his manager had made the whole interview-photo-shoot appointment sound like it would barely take a couple of hours, but it is 5PM by now and Nino feels tired. Both emotionally and physically, and he really needs a cigarette. His brain works more slowly than usual today, but what with that awful morning he has had, it is not really surprising.

“The atmosphere amongst the members is great,” Nino states, though, with a little smile. His manager looks down to him worriedly; Iwata has known him for years already and it is no surprise he notices that something is off immediately. “We are getting along as well as we always have. The other members are like family to me. However,” Nino makes a long pause, inwardly preparing for what he is going to say next. When he had agreed on the interview earlier, _this_ moment had been the sole reason for it, and Nino knows he has to word it correctly.

“We’ve come a long, long way until now,” he starts off, pretending like he has a hard time finding the right words for it to buy himself more time, “We are existing for eight years by now, after all. We’ve started off as kids—I was sixteen, and the oldest one, Ohno-kun, he was eighteen. By now, though, all of us have grown up. We’re adults; we’ve grown out of being those playful highschool boys, clinging to each other all the time and hugging each other like brothers. I think that’s the main thing that has changed. While we are still as close as ever emotionally, we just treat each other like adults now and don’t cling to each other like helpless puppies anymore.” Nino laughs when he compares them to puppies, cocking his head back a little, wrinkles showing around his eyes. “It has taken a long time, but I think I can finally say that we’re all adults now. And it feels good.”

The man across the table is nodding at every word Nino says and the camera next to him is filming the whole time. Nino feels his heart beating hard and fast against his ribcage, and his palms turn a little sweaty. His manager has maybe not realized yet what exactly Nino is trying to accomplish with such statements, but soon enough he will.

“So you’ve grown up, you say,” the interviewer repeats with a smile, and Nino nods enthusiastically. It hurts, it really does—but he doesn’t have a choice. He just doesn’t. This morning had been the final proof of how urgently things need to change, and in order to avoid talking to Ohno (or anyone from Arashi, really) directly about it, he has to trick them all. “And you don’t hug so much anymore?” the man continues, sounding a bit bemused.

Nino nods. The lump in his throat is throbbing heavily, and he doesn’t know when it even formed there.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Ohno-kun and me, for example. We used to cling to each other all the time. We’ve always seen each other like brothers, and that’s why we hung out so much together. Nowadays, however, we aren’t as touchy anymore and don’t spend that much time with each other anymore, either. I think, though, that’s just natural during the process of growing up, right?”

When his manager widens his eyes, Nino knows the information was delivered correctly.

 

*

 

Nino is inhaling the much-needed nicotine of the cigarette between his trembling fingers in fast and short breaths, his body only slowly coming down from how much he has put himself through today. Ohno is gone; he feels it—Ohno is gone, the night is gone, the warmth of Satoshi’s body is gone, and it won’t come back. Their affair is over, and their friendship will be over in no time as well.

Nino had initiated it earlier after all, and the interview is just the beginning.

“Why did you say such things, Ninomiya-kun?” Iwata asks. They are on the emergency staircase of the building of the magazine company; Nino is leaning over the railing, blowing the white smoke of the cigarette up into the sky. Iwata is standing behind him, leaning against the wall next to the emergency door, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Nino can almost feel the older man staring holes into his back, but he doesn’t really care.

“’Such things’?” he asks back, playing dumb, and takes another pull on his cigarette. Inwardly, his body is throwing a tantrum, and Nino isn’t sure if he might not have collapsed already if not for the cigarette between his fingers, keeping his emotions barely at bay.

“About hugging, about closeness,” his manager elaborates, sounding annoyed. He knows that Nino knows, and playing dumb doesn’t get either of them anywhere. “You had no right to make such statements! The agency _will_ get back at you, or, well, at _me_ once they see the article, and they will most likely stop the magazine from printing any more copies after the first circulation is out.” Iwata sounds truly angry and like he has to compose himself a lot—which is no surprise, Nino knows. Usually he is easy to work with, but he _does_ have some personal issues here and there, and when it is about them, he is a very difficult person to deal with.

“I said nothing but the truth,” Nino monotonously responds, though, and flips the cigarette stump down into the streets, wondering how high they are here right now. Must be fifty metres, at least. “And I didn’t say we weren’t close anymore,” Nino continues, now turning around to his manager and looking at him with a determined expression in his clear eyes. “I simply said Ohno-kun and me are not touchy anymore because we’ve grown up. And that’s exactly how it is, and how it will be: Ohno and me will stop continuing this ridiculous fanservice all the time when the cameras are rolling—we will stop acting as if we were married, or a couple at the very least. I’m fed up with it, and that’s why it will stop from this very second onwards. I delivered you a believable interview to base all of this on. If you aren’t pleased with the outcome… well, that’s not my problem.”

Nino knows it actually _is_ his problem and by the way his manager is giving him a cold and barely restrained, angry look, Iwata is just about to state the very same. But Nino simply _doesn’t care_. He can only take so much before breaking completely, and he is sure that if Iwata just knew the _whole_ story, he would be grateful for Nino to act this wisely instead of simply leaving Arashi—leaving _Ohno_ for good.

Thus, before Iwata can even open his mouth and hiss back an angry answer, Nino waves him off and passes him to open the door back in. “Today is my day off,” he underlines slowly, “Isn’t it enough that I already came to your appointment on my day off and spent more than _half_ of the day here? If you excuse me now, I have _urgent personal matters_ to attend. Call me in case my schedule for next week changes unexpectedly.”

And with that, Nino leaves, ignoring how Iwata’s jaw clenches visibly in anger.

 

*

 

Jun would probably explode and insist they talk it out (and forget all of this has ever happened), and Sho would worry more than is good for his own health and annoy the fuck out of Nino—and in the end he would be suffering even more than Nino himself is, because Sho is just that kind of person who takes every single band matter to heart and wants everyone to be happy.

Aiba is a different kind of person, though. On first glance, he is cheerful, playful, childish and way too energetic for a normal person to endure for more than half an hour at once, but he has a very special place in Nino’s heart. He is one of the people he has known for almost his entire life, and maybe it is a unique bond only Aiba and Nino share, but he knows that no matter what, Aiba would never let him down. He wouldn’t judge him either, and he would certainly leave a topic alone if he realizes it is for the best.

And contrary to what people think, Aiba Masaki is clever and witty, too, and he knows exactly how to behave in what kind of situation.

It is no surprise that Nino writes an SMS to him out of all of Arashi the second he has reached his car, and barely half an hour later they meet up in the corner of a private restaurant, high up and hidden in one of Tokyo’s countless skyscrapers.

Aiba looks awfully worried when he sits down at the table in a corner of the restaurant, and Nino only speaks once the waitress has brought them both a glass of water.

“It’s nothing bad,” Nino tries to calm the taller man down before the conversation has even started, and he ignores the fact that he must look pretty desperate like this, literally clinging to the cigarette between his fingers as if for dear life. “Or,” he corrects, “no worse than the usual, anyway.”

Aiba sighs quietly and nips on his glass of water. “Leader?” he asks, not really expecting any kind of explanation.

Nino only chuckles and closes his eyes for a moment while inhaling the nicotine. It is ridiculous how addicted he has become to cigarettes all over these years, but if there has _ever_ been one time of his life where quitting smoking is certainly _not_ an option, it is now.

“Yeah,” he says, calmly, breathing out the smoke. It is funny because Aiba and Nino have never talked about his crush on Ohno that had slowly developed into a full-fledged, blossoming, deep love over the years. But Aiba knows—Nino _knows_ that Aiba knows—and still, as intrusive and pushy as Aiba often seems, the taller man knows very well when to keep things to himself.

Nino swallows, and he knows Aiba won’t ask any further. Aiba doesn’t expect explanations; perhaps he simply thinks that Nino needs some friendly and distracting company.

Only not—not this time. This time, Nino feels like even Aiba’s energetic spirit cannot help pull him out of his deep, deep hole anymore.

“I need help,” Nino finally admits and looks up to Aiba who is silently watching him.

Aiba nods without hesitation. “What is it?” he asks.

“I want you to take care of Oh-chan from now on,” Nino explains further, and now he doesn’t quite manage to meet the intensive look in Aiba’s eyes anymore. “Because _I_ can’t anymore. I’ll stop. With—with everything, actually. I gave an interview earlier and basically said the fanservice will stop, too. I just—“ Nino breaks off then and shrugs helplessly, his facial expression faltering, his lips trembling, his fingers squeezing around the cigarette in his left hand. He feels how his emotions are just about to boil up within him—but this is the wrong place and the wrong company for it. Nino doesn’t lose his face in public; in fact he doesn’t lose his face in front of anyone. Not even in front of Aiba.

“I just need a break,” Nino finally settles on ending his sentence in a whisper and swallows, trying to get his trembling under control. “Could you—could you just distract him for a while? So he won’t notice the lack of my presence around him. And once he notices, later, he probably won’t even mind anymore.”

Aiba is just staring at him, but he doesn’t even look shocked. His eyes mirror sadness and empathy, and some part of Nino wants to believe that Aiba can imagine exactly what is going on within his soul.

Aiba opens his mouth then, searching for words, closes it again—and then he simply nods, obviously not even knowing what to say.

“Are you sure?” he asks, though, while Nino is taking pull after pull on his cigarette. “Have you—I mean— _talked_ at least?”

Nino gives Aiba a look at that says _are you stupid? What do you think of me?,_ and then shakes his head. “We haven’t, and we won’t. Now, can you do me this favour or not?”

Aiba seems to ponder for a moment, but then he nods hesitantly, sighing, and Nino realizes just how tensed up his body had been up until now as he suddenly, instinctively, slumps down into himself in relief. His heart is, again, beating hard against his ribcage from nervousness.

“Thank you, Masaki,” he honestly and truthfully mumbles. “This means the world to me, you have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of decided to update my fic one day early because I kinda wrote 3k new words last night and thought I could allow myself to update earlier. The whole fic I includes more than 15k words by now and I'm *still* not completely done. So there are a lot more chapters coming up for you! Also sorry for the lack of Ohno's presence in this chapter, but that's just how my fic goes. This whole projects turns into a bigger monster than expected, haha. :D
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it-- leave a comment if you have anything to say, comments always cheer me up and motivate me. :) Thank you for reading! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Ohno doesn’t even _notice_.

Nino can’t say what he had expected when he had set up his plan, but, honestly, he hadn’t expected Ohno not to notice _at all_. Of course he had told Aiba to please take care of Ohno, to drive him home if Ohno’s manager is busy, to distract him, to just spend time with him so Nino doesn’t have to. And yes, he had also told Aiba to do all of this so Ohno would hopefully not notice the lack of Nino’s presence.

However, when Ohno _really_ doesn’t notice, it cuts into Nino’s heart like the sharpest knife.

Two weeks have passed since that interview, and his manager has been angry with Nino ever since. Nino can deal with that, though, and after Jun’s initial grumpiness due to the interview has ceased, things are back to normal. Except for the fact that Nino has mostly withdrawn from any group activities completely and only plays his role on-screen— _without_ the Ohmiya-part, that is. In their variety shows, no one really notices, but backstage, when the first thing Nino does is curl up in the corner of his couch and play DS, Jun and Sho have started throwing worried glances at him. Ohno doesn’t do anything, and Aiba knows what is going on, so he pretends not to see.

Nino frustratedly curses at his DS because the game doesn’t work the way it should. He might be distracted, too, because the other members are sitting two metres away from him, heatedly discussing how they want to meet up tonight to go out drinking. They can’t see Nino because the couch he is lying on faces away from the dressing shelves the others have gathered around, and Nino decides it is a good thing that they can’t see him when Ohno speaks up.

“I can’t come tonight, though,” he quietly interrupts, “I already planned something with my girlfriend.”

Nino’s grasp around his DS is so tight his knuckles turn white and he grits his teeth, making no sound, pressing his face into the couch’s surface. He has to get used to this. It is not like Ohno hasn’t spoken about his girlfriend before, either way—only it seems like those statements from Ohno hurt even _more,_ now that Nino has put so much distance between them.

“Eh, Shiori-san?” Sho asks, and Nino can almost hear the bright chipmunk smile on his face. Sho is so supportive of all the girlfriends the members have ever had because he wishes he had one himself. “Well, that’s understandable! She could come along, though? You can invite her?”

There is silence for a moment, and Nino supposes Ohno is shaking his head.

“I would,” he says, “but she actually invited me to go out for dinner with her. Together with her parents.”

Ohno has a ridiculous talent for dropping bombs on Nino’s head every time he opens his mouth, really.

Nino breathes out slowly and inaudibly, telling himself to _calm the fuck down_ , and he hears the others taking in a deep breath as well.

“Her _parents_?” Aiba echoes; he sounds surprised.

“Does that mean—are you—Leader, are you getting _married_?” Jun asks, speaking out loud the thoughts on everyone’s minds.

Nino closes his eyes. _No_. No no no no no. Not getting married. No marriage. Not yet. Not yet, please. Everything but that. His heart is beating so fast again and he presses his face more tightly into the leather couch in order not to make a sound. Thank God the others can’t see him right now.

“Oh… um,” Ohno makes dumbly, “I don’t know, really. I didn’t—We didn’t talk about that.”

“But you _do_ realize what it means when a girl wants you to meet her parents?” Sho implores; he has always wanted to find a girl and marry her, so it isn’t surprising to Nino that he is the one to make such comments. So _supportive_ … again.

Ohno doesn’t say anything, and Nino is sure he is probably shrugging.

But what does it matter anyway? Ohno is going to meet his girlfriend’s parents, and Nino feels sick when he thinks about what this could _possibly_ mean. Feels sick when he thinks about how… how _simple_ -minded Ohno’s view on life is sometimes, and how he would probably ask Shiori-san to marry him if her parents expected it from him.

Nino wants to get up, wants to run over to Ohno, shake him, slap him, scream at him how this _cannot possibly be happening_ —but he doesn’t move. This is how things will be from now on, he tells himself; maybe Ohno will marry Shiori-san, maybe he will even have children with her in a few years. Nino has to move on from this, and as much as he can’t believe it yet, maybe he will just meet someone else who makes him as happy as Ohno once had. At some point in the future. Perhaps. Maybe.

Nino doesn’t listen to the conversation anymore, and to how Ohno is giggling and laughing when Sho explains to him how to propose properly.

Later, when Jun calls over to Nino, asking if he will join them tonight, Nino only lifts an arm over the back of the couch and shows them his middle finger.

“I guess that’s a No,” Sho concludes dryly. Aiba tries to laugh it off.

 

*

 

Nino only realizes that today is his birthday when he gets an SMS from Aiba at 12.01AM, congratulating him and wishing him all the best for the upcoming year. He also asks if they shouldn’t meet up tonight and celebrate with the rest of Arashi and some friends?

 _»Thanks but no thanks, I’m busy,«_ Nino writes back immediately and throws his cellphone onto the couch at the other end of his tiny livingroom. He doesn’t care about his birthday; he doesn’t care about anything. Anything but Ohno, and Ohno isn’t a part of his life anymore. Not like _that,_ at least.

Nino closes his eyes, his fingers lingering on the keys of his piano. And then he starts playing, slowly, clumsily, like he hasn’t practiced enough yet. Which, well, he hasn’t.

 

_In tears you’ve chosen me,_

_I didn’t have a choice, I had to go with you_

_Day in, day out the same dream, and I’m the way out_

_You just have to trust me_

Nino doesn’t know since when he has decided to try and get unnecessary, painful emotions out of his body through music, but by now he doesn’t know any other option anymore. It is four months since the incident with Ohno—four months since Nino has cut himself off from any human contact in life that isn’t absolutely inevitable. And still, _still_ he feels so much for Ohno that he could cry the moment he truly starts thinking about him because he misses him so, so much. But this is what Nino has chosen; this is how he thinks things are better. He doesn’t _have_ Ohno anymore like this, but at least Ohno cannot actively _hurt_ him anymore either.

Nino takes a pull on his cigarette; during the last months he has become more addicted to them than ever. But what does it matter? He doesn’t invite anyone over to his apartment, and besides the practices for which he needs stamina (which he has, even as a smoker), no one is affected by it anyway. No one but Nino himself.

 

_I want to reach into your heart_

_And if that’s impossible,_

_I’ll never want to see you again_

_It would be worth the pain for me_

_You don’t have to understand that—_

_But don’t you understand me?_

_I want to reach into your heart_

_Whether you want me to or not_

Nino sighs quietly and scribbles around on the piece of paper with the lyrics to his song, and then he decides to just play the music of the song over and over again without singing for the moment. It is a simple, slow song, nothing special—good enough for it to be his next solo, good enough for his fans to love it, but, most importantly, good enough to express his painfully strong and desperate feelings towards Ohno, and hopefully making him able to get rid of them once he has finished this song.

If things were just that easy.

Nino’s cellphone rings again, and he has a headache by now anyway, so he grumpily gets up and walks over to the couch, his fingers rubbing over his face a few times as sleepiness tries to crawl into his limbs. He hasn’t eaten much through the whole day and he just feels so _tired._ More emotionally than physically, though. They are having a lot of practice these weeks for an upcoming autumn dome tour and for their new single, but honestly, Nino feels like it is harder to deal with unrequited love than with the hardest practice schedule imaginable.

 _»_ _We don’t have to invite Ohno_ _«,_ Aiba writes. Nino chuckles, barely, and leans back into the couch. Aiba knows this wouldn’t help the problem. Not only would Nino feel awkward if Ohno were to ever find out he wasn’t invited, but Jun and Sho would eye him questioningly as well if Ohno were missing. And to be perfectly honest, after four months of depression, Nino doesn’t even feel like spending time with anyone anymore.

Anyone but—

Nino shakes his thoughts off before he can end the sentence in his mind, and writes back an _»_ _I’m really busy, I won’t celebrate this year. Now stop texting me«_ to Aiba before he switches his cellphone to silent and curls up in the corner of his couch, reaching out for another cigarette.

 

*

 

During the course of the day, several friends send him SMS. Matsujun and Sho write him, too, and his sister comes over with a cake and says she won’t leave again before Nino has eaten two big pieces of it in front of her own eyes. His mom calls, and his sister complains about how his apartment stinks awfully of smoke as she is opening all the windows widely to let in fresh air. Nino snorts and grumbles back something along the lines of _not your damn business_ , but she is his sister and he cannot bring himself to kick her out.

So he silently watches her tidy up his flat and make his laundry (and complain about how much of it has piled up and of how it stinks, and _don’t even get me started on your dirty dishes, Kazunari—oh wait, is that_ mould _in your dishwasher? You are twenty-four fucking years old, and_ still _you cannot take care of yourself, are you kidding me?_ ) while he is forcing a forkful of delicious cake down his throat. And then Nino decides to just switch back to cigarettes because, really, he doesn’t feel like fatty cream cake with chocolate at all. Not right now, and not anytime soon either.

“I didn’t ask you to clean up,” he mutters grouchily and inhales a lungful of nicotine, “And I was busy. You know, I’m an _idol_. Ninomiya Kazunari, member of Arashi. You might have heard of me before?”

“Very funny,” she hisses back from two rooms away, hanging up the wet, freshly washed laundry, “Japan would surely find it highly amusing to discover how the oh-so-clever Nino of Arashi can’t even clean up after himself.”

Nino wants to tell her to shut up, but he has long since learnt that trying to argue with his sister is absolutely no use, so he just tsks quietly and pays attention to his cigarette instead.

“Blablabla, whatever,” he mumbles, though.

“I _heard_ that, Kazu!” she shouts back, and Nino rolls his eyes.

 

*

 

At 23:41, Ohno writes.

Nino had tried not to think about him, but what with having worked on his solo song, which is basically about nothing else _but_ Ohno, it had been hard. However, he had managed; his sister’s visit had brightened up his day a little, and even though he will just bring his birthday cake to practice tomorrow and make other people eat it for him, he had been happy, compared to his usually rather depressed mood. He hadn’t even expected Ohno to write him, and by now his heart just gives a numb thump of protest every time Ohno enters his mind.

But now there is a message popping up on his screen, and it says _from Oh-chan_.

 _I should rename him_ , Nino thinks absent-mindedly. Reading the name _Oh-chan_ only brings back hurtful memories, but Ohno hasn’t written him for _months_ and Nino had completely forgotten under which name he had saved him in his phone.

His thumb is trembling only a little when he opens the message.

 

 _»_ _Happy Birthday_ _«,_ it reads.

 

A dry sob leaves Nino’s mouth as he is staring at the screen, feeling empty, his eyes slowly following each and every letter of the words. He doesn’t even know why, but he tears up. All those months—all the distance, the lack of talking, the complete lack of touches, their broken _friendship_ —and _this_ is Ohno’s answer to it.

Happy Birthday. Nothing more and nothing less; only silent acceptance of how things have changed. Twenty minutes before his birthday is over.

Nino wishes Ohno had just not written anything in the first place.

 _»_ _Why do you even bother?_ _«_ , Nino writes back, blinking tears away furiously and grabbing for another cigarette. The ashtray on his couch table is already overflowing, but he doesn’t care. His heart is throbbing heavily and painfully in his chest, and Nino catches himself thinking that he just wants it to stop beating altogether. It would solve a lot of problems, and the pain would finally cease.

He receives no answer from Ohno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some little things I want to say:
> 
> a) The time difference between the beginning of this fic and Nino's birthday is four months. Maybe some people didn't realize that immediately because the first scene of this chapter and the second scene are one after the other, but if you read closely you'll realize that between "Ohno, are you going to get married?!" and Nino's birthday are 3+ months.
> 
> b) The excerpt of lyrics I posted belongs to an originally German song that inspired me to write this fic. I translated it into English. At one point of this fic, Nino will perform the complete song and only then you'll be able to read the whole lyrics and I'll also provide a link to the song on Youtube and credit the artist. For now, however, I'll just leave you with those tiny pieces of lyrics because I want to leave the actual, real song for when Nino performs it.
> 
> c) As of now, I'm uploading a chapter every six days. I hope you enjoyed this one!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Nino will perform "his" song, it is called "Into your heart". Originally, this song is by Tim Bendzko, a German singer, and called "In dein Herz". I translated his lyrics into English and put them into the chapter. 
> 
> When you reach the point of the fic where Nino performs the song, you **should check the song out[HERE.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzojL0lEI-o)** (Maybe open it in a new tab and let it play along when you reach the lyrics-part of my chapter? /suggestion)  
>  You can as well check it out now, too, if you want-- that depends on you. The lyrics are posted IN the chapter when Nino sings the song.
> 
> However, I'd really like you to listen to the song (perhaps while reading the English lyrics?) so you get a feeling for the song.  
> To me, it's a very emotional one and a few weeks ago, Tim Bendzko's live was broadcast on TV and I listened to it while working on another fic. Those lines _"I want to reach into your heart / whether you want me to or not / and if that's impossible / I never want to see you again / it would be worth the pain"_ (note: it would be worth the pain of not seeing you again) really touched me and reminded me of Keeping it together/Cry for you. And I thought this Nino, my Nino from this universe, could perhaps perform it because it somewhat reflects his despair/feelings.
> 
> So yeah, please check it out before/while reading this chapter. :)
> 
> Besides that, have fun and enjoy. Comments are, as always, highly appreciated and keep me motivated. ♥

“This needs to stop,” are the first words Sakurai Sho greets him with when he storms into the otherwise still empty greenroom three months after Nino’s birthday. Nino doesn’t even bother looking up from his DS and just makes an asking sound through his nose.

“ _Kazu_ ,” Sho complains further and walks around the couch to sit down next to Nino, dropping his bag uncaringly on the ground and grabbing Nino’s shoulder to pull him up.

“What?” Nino hisses now and shakes Sho’s hands off. His eyes are hostile when they meet Sho’s. “I didn’t ask for you to interrupt my gaming session, thank you very much.”

Sho’s breath goes a bit more rapidly than usual, and Nino realizes his bandmate has probably been running the whole way here.

“And _I_ didn’t ask for you to ruin yourself like _that_ for whatever reason,” Sho shoots back bitterly, biting his plush bottom lip. His arms lunge forward again and even though Nino tries to fight Sho’s grip off, he doesn’t stand a chance.

“Don’t you see?!” Sho spits out, both of his hands reaching out and grasping Nino’s upper arms. His middle finger and thumb of each hand are touching easily around Nino’s arms; they are just _that_ skinny.

“Don’t you see?” he whispers again, now so close, looking right into Nino’s eyes from barely two inches away, his hands trembling slightly although his grip around Nino’s arms is tight and relentless, “How much weight have you lost, Kazu?”

Nino widens his eyes because _that_ hits him completely unexpectedly. _Lost weight? Him?_ Why would Sho even _think_ that?

“What?” he echoes, his voice no more than an utterly confused whisper, “Lost… weight? Me?”

Sho is trembling with anger, and while Nino is in plain shock from not only Sho’s rough grip but also from his unforeseen accusation, Sho pulls up one of Nino’s arms right in front of his face, again closing his hand around it with ease. His fingertips don’t only touch; they almost overlap.

“ _Yes_ ,” Sho bitterly repeats, “ _Lost weight_. And don’t you think I’m not noticing how you can barely keep up with the dance practices anymore lately. How you are shaking and trembling and how you fuck up more than usual. How you _never_ eat. The only things I see getting close to your mouth are your _damn cigarettes_!” Sho is almost screaming by now, shaking Nino slightly in his grip, and Nino thinks absent-mindedly how lucky they are to be alone because he doesn’t want _anyone_ to see this.

“I don’t—“ he protests, fighting back now and trying to get rid of Sho’s grip, but again, it is no use. Sho doesn’t back off.

“Let me go, Sho,” Nino hisses when Sho doesn’t even move an inch away, narrowing his eyes angrily, “Let me _go_ , dammit! I’m _fine_! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Nino grits his teeth, but Sho looks like he has had more than enough of Nino’s excuses.

“Right,” he simply throws back and gets up, roughly pulling Nino with him, “There is a scale in the other room and I’m going to weigh you now. Let’s see how _fine_ you are,” he grunts, pissed, and Nino barely manages to throw his DS into the safety of the soft couch before Sho starts dragging him over to the door. By then, Nino is fighting back and struggling furiously, his arms hurting from Sho’s tight grip, and anger stirs up within his body like it hadn’t in a _very_ long time.

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?! In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m an adult and can take care of myself, thank you very much! Let go, Sho! _Sho_! _Let the fuck go_!” Nino doesn’t even realize how much he is screaming and how much his body is aching from his vigorous squirming in Sho’s grip, his breath going short and fast. “You’re hurting me! Goddamn it, Sho, it _hurts_ , let go!”

Partly, though, Nino cannot even deny what Sho is accusing him of, considering Sho is just _that_ much stronger. He can easily drag him to the door, and Nino knows that while yes, Sho is usually physically slightly superior to him—has always been—, he can’t remember Sho being _that_ much stronger. Not to a point where Sho doesn’t even look like he breaks a sweat while handling Nino’s struggles with no problem whatsoever.

But then the door opens unexpectedly before Sho can reach out to open it himself, and out there in the corridor stands Ohno. Tired, tanned Ohno with small eyes and a yawn on his face. His eyes widen immediately, though, when the sight inside the greenroom is not of Sho who is reading his newspaper and Nino who is playing DS but instead Sho with Nino in his grip, holding both of Nino’s arms tightly crossed behind his back to keep him in control.

“Hi,” Sho awkwardly says, and his grip around Nino’s wrists immediately loosens quite a bit out of reflex.

Ohno wants to say something back, but he only manages to open his mouth the tiniest bit before Nino shoves Sho away from him with all his strength, using the moment of surprise to his advantage.

“Don’t you _ever_ touch me like that again, Sho-kun,” Nino spits hatefully, still breathing hard.

And then he looks at Ohno, and Ohno looks back.

It is the first time after more than half a year that Nino _looks_ at Ohno, and it feels like his whole body is set on fire. This is not like during the filming of one of their variety shows when they interact with each other only as much as absolutely necessary; this time Nino looks at Ohno, and he _sees_ him.

His heart rate speeds up even more than before and his palms become sweaty. His neck suddenly feels clammy, too, and a slight shiver runs up his spine, shaking his shoulders. This is Ohno Satoshi, cute, adorable Oh-chan, all pouty lips and tanned, round cheeks, his eyebrows pulled into a helpless frown. Ohno’s Adam’s apple moves a bit when he swallows, and Nino is overwhelmed by all the feelings he still holds for this man. None of them have diminished by only the tiniest bit, not even after more than half a year.

 _Oh-chan_ , he wants to whisper. _Oh-chan_. But Nino’s lips can only form the word; his voice isn’t existent at this very moment—it refuses to work.

“Nino,” Ohno surprisingly speaks up instead, making Nino’s heart almost jump out of his throat. There is so much Nino feels like he can interpret into the way Ohno has spoken his name—is there desire? Longing? Despair, maybe? Nino swallows, too, his eyes glued to Ohno’s.

And then Sho butts in. “Ohno-kun,” he says and walks up, dangerously close to Nino, and points to him, “Would you please confirm that Nino—“

“ _I told you to shut the fuck up_ ,” Nino hisses so hatefully that he surprises _himself_ , and slowly diverts his eyes from Ohno to look over to Sho wrathfully, “Mind your own business. Mind your _own_ fucking business and leave me alone.”

The magical moment between Ohno and him is over, and Nino rushes out of the greenroom, past Ohno who is still standing confusedly in the doorway, along the corridor and out to the smoker balcony where he clings to the railing desperately and fumbles a cigarette out of his pockets with trembling fingers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Ohno. Oh-chan. This hadn’t been supposed to happen, it just shouldn’t have happened. Nino feels how his eyes start burning and his whole body is still shaking when he presses the cigarette between his lips and lights it up. He immediately inhales the smoke as deeply as he can, hoping it would just calm his crazily fast beating heart down. He blinks tears away frantically, and, fortunately, not a single tear manages to roll down his hollow cheeks.

Ten minutes and two cigarettes later, his heart is still beating so quickly that Nino almost starts worrying, cold wind blowing into his face because he is on the fifteenth floor and the wind out here is stronger than is comfortable. It is cold, but Nino doesn’t care. Thoughts are running aimlessly through his mind—thoughts about Ohno, about the way he had spoken his name, about how he had still looked like always, about—about just how much Nino had still wanted to just lunge forward and wrap himself all around this man, hug him tightly and never let him go again. The desire to do so is pulsing in his whole body, so strongly he can feel it in his very fingertips, and the trembles running up his spine only intensify.

Nino doesn’t know how long he is standing here when Sho opens the door to the balcony and joins him wordlessly for another cigarette. Wind blows into both of their faces, and Sho is leaning over the railing too; he is so close to Nino that he can feel his body warmth, at least faintly.

“You haven’t talked much to Leader lately, have you?” Sho asks at some point.

Nino shrugs. “Mm,” he makes, not really feeling like answering. He doesn’t want to talk to Sho, and certainly not about _this_.

“And you haven’t eaten much lately either, have you?” Sho implores further.

Nino shrugs again. “So what?” He finally asks back, looking down into the city. It is an awfully cold morning, at least up here, and Nino regrets not having taken his coat outside. “As long as I can work and dance and don’t bother anyone, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

Sho doesn’t answer and swallows instead. It looks like he is searching for the right words, and when he fully turns around to Nino, he seems like he has found them.

“Look,” Sho starts slowly, his voice as comfortably deep as usual, “I’m sorry for earlier. I—I didn’t want to drag you out like this, really. But I’ve been watching you for a few weeks now, and every time I see you, you look more awful than before. And, really, you _have_ lost weight. Our managers even wanted to speak with Johnny-san about it. I told them not to, I told them I’d take care of it.”

Nino just looks at Sho through the whole explanation, his brain gradually catching up. He can’t believe how much seems to have happened while he has been living in his own, tiny bubble of depression and darkness. He hadn’t expected anyone to even pay attention to him, and he certainly _hasn’t_ noticed how he ‘has lost weight’.

“’Take care of it’?” Nino asks, though, frowning.

Sho nods hesitantly. “I’ll just make sure you eat every time when we have practice together. And you promise me to have dinner with me at least three times a week. I pay, so you don’t have to worry about that. But just—just, let’s do that, or—“

Nino snorts in disapproval, snaps his finished cigarette down the balcony and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “With all due respect, Sho-kun, but I really don’t think that’s necessary. _Really_. I’m not a child, and—“

“ _Or_ I’ll let the managers tell Johnny-san after all. I heard he doesn’t like his employees to be dangerously skinny, and believe me, I heard he lets them come to his office every morning and weigh themselves in front of him to make sure they are gaining weight,” Sho butts in matter-of-factly. Nino doesn’t even know if what Sho is telling him is true or complete bullshit, but he shivers at the imagination of it anyway.

“But—“

“ _Naked_ ,” Sho interrupts and cocks his head back.

Nino feels sick just _thinking_ of it. He sighs, defeated, and finally gives in reluctantly.

“Alright,” he mumbles and lowers his head, “Fine— _okay_. But _you_ pay. For everything.”

When he looks up again, Sho gives him the happiest of smiles.

 

*

 

It is difficult to grab a chance to smoke secretly, what with all those cameras around, filming all of them constantly, but considering Nino feels like his body is shaking all over, he could surely use a cigarette to calm down.

But who is he to fool? He will just never get used to performing those concerts before incredibly huge crowds such as the ones in Tokyo Dome. 50.000 people and more are screaming and cheering outside in the venue, and even though half of the concert is already over, Nino still feels awfully shaken up. But adrenaline is pumping through his veins, and it is distracting him enough to simply _function_.

His stylist helps him slip into his solo song outfit: Black skinny jeans, a shiny golden belt, a white t-shirt with a v-neck and a black vest. He looks simple and plain, just like the song he will perform in less than one minute. He will perform it in front of 50.000 people, he reminds himself with an ironic grin and looks up into the camera one of the cameramen is pushing into his face.

“It’s going to be fun,” he casually comments because they are expecting him to, “I’m going to perform my new song for the first time. I hope you will like it.”

The stylist is pulling some strands of his longish, black hair into place again, and then he quickly powders away the hints of sweat on his face. He nods at Nino before stepping back, and Nino walks up to the staircase that leads right to the stage. The piano is already there, hidden by another, movable staircase, and Nino shudders at how intensively and loudly Ohno is singing his solo song on stage right now. It is almost over, though, and Nino tries to fight off any thoughts about this. He really, _really_ can imagine better things to think about than Ohno Satoshi at this very moment. Where is a distraction when he needs one? Where are Jun, Sho and Aiba?

“Twenty more seconds,” a staff member shouts over the corridor as the music of Ohno’s solo song ebbs away and fans start cheering so loudly it makes Nino’s body vibrate down to the core.

“Fifteen, fourteen,…” The staff member counts out loud from a few metres behind Nino, and Nino looks up to the stairs he will be climbing up in less than half a minute to perform his song. For Ohno. After that, he will hopefully be done with the chaos that is the mess of his feelings, curled up into an endless, big knot down in his stomach for too long by now.

And then, unexpectedly yet unsurprisingly, Ohno appears like a magical creature at the top of the stairs, the colourful spotlights from the stage lighting him up from behind, making the whole view look absolutely mesmerizing with Ohno’s spiky hair and lithe frame. Nino’s breath hitches and he tremblingly swallows, his body suddenly feeling paralyzed. Ohno looks so stunning as he moves down the stairs like this is some athletic, elegant act (Nino has never been able to figure out how Ohno can make the most normal movements look _so_ breathtakingly elegant, really), and Nino wants to back away, make space for Ohno so they don’t meet, but his body refuses to move. One step, another, and another—and then Ohno is already standing in front of him, his breath going hard and fast, sweat sliding down his temples and cheeks. Nino finds himself wanting to lick it all away, every single drop of it.

It is ridiculous how easily Ohno can raise sexual desire within Nino in a split second, even after all those months.

Ohno looks up at Nino and catches Nino staring back at him, his pouty lips quirking up in an exhausted smile.

“Ten, nine,…” the staff shouts from the back.

“Good luck,” Ohno whispers breathily, one of his sun-kissed, beautiful hands squeezing Nino’s shoulder. The touch burns through his clothes like fire. “I’m looking forward to your song, Nino.”

Nino’s body is trembling even more than before and he barely manages to endure the other man’s intense stare that is locked on him. His brown eyes are still those calming, deep ponds Nino never grows tired of looking into. So warm and safe, so full of—

“Three, two, one!”

Ohno nods at him and squeezes his upper arm reassuringly before stepping to the side. Nino barely catches a glimpse of Ohno’s sparkly t-shirt with huge, Latin letters printed all over them. His brain tries to read them, and only after Nino diverts his eyes from Ohno and a staff member pushes him up the stairs, his brain slowly supplies the meaning of those words.

 _I love you._ That is what the shirt had read. _I love you_.

Nino wants to laugh bitterly because those are the last words he wants to think of in the context of Ohno Satoshi right now, really. A lump is forming in his throat before he even notices, and his brain tries to catch on, _catch on_ —he stumbles up the stairs, leaving Ohno behind, up onto the stage to the dimly lit, white piano, and thousands of fans start cheering so loudly that Nino feels his knees go weak.

Or have they gone weak the second Ohno had stepped up to the top of the stairs barely thirty seconds ago? Nino doesn’t know; he feels lost and stares into the enormously huge ocean of fans and colourful lights in the dark, hears more cheering—his mind still hasn’t caught on.

 _I love you._ The image of Ohno wearing that shirt is so vividly burnt into his inner eye that he cannot get rid of it.

He doesn’t even know how he manages to sit down at the piano, and his fingers are shaking when he places them on the keys. The crowd grows silent immediately, and Nino swallows again. He wears in-ear monitors, and still— _still_ , the loudest sound he can hear is his heart beating, loudly and desperately. Sometimes a sappy part of himself thinks that his heart just wants to jump out of his throat and into Ohno’s arms, really—or why does it always start beating like _crazy_ the second Ohno is close?

There is a voice of a staff member in his ear counting down from ten, and when the voice has reached _one_ , Nino’s body switches from a mess of feelings into the professional that his idol-persona is. He starts playing, synchronized with the audio that plays in his ears.

 _This is for you, Oh-chan_ , Nino thinks, ignoring the numb throb of pain in his chest, _this is for you. Listen closely and finally let me go. Please. Let me breathe again._

Nino starts singing, and although his voice is a little shaky, he pours his everything into the performance, his fingers instinctively playing the piano along.

 

_In tears, you’ve chosen me,_

_I didn’t have a choice, I had to go with you_

_Day in, day out the same dream, and I’m the way out_

_You just have to trust me_

 

_I want to reach into your heart_

_And if that’s impossible,_

_I’ll never want to see you again_

_It would be worth the pain for me_

_You don’t have to understand that—_

_But don’t you understand me?_

_I want to reach into your heart_

_Whether you want me to or not_

_The answer to the “why”_

_I would have loved to give it to you_

_I’ve searched for it so long_

_But the search was in vain_

_I want to reach into your heart_

_It’d be worth every trouble_

_I’m the voice giving you strength from within_

_I want to reach into your heart_

_And if that’s impossible,_

_I’ll never want to see you again_

_It would be worth the pain for me_

_You don’t have to understand that—_

_But don’t you understand me?_

_I want to reach into your heart_

_Whether you want me to or not_

_You look at me_

_And you know I won’t leave your side_

_You look at me_

_And you know I want to reach you at all costs_

_To melt your heart_

_I want to reach into your heart_

_And if that’s impossible,_

_I’ll never want to see you again_

_It would be worth the pain for me_

_You don’t have to understand that—_

_But don’t you understand me?_

_I want to reach into your heart_

_Whether you want me to or not_

_I want to reach into your heart_

_And if that’s impossible,_

_I’ll never want to see you again_

_It would be worth the pain for me_

_You don’t have to understand that—_

_But don’t you understand me?_

_I want to reach into your heart_

_Whether you want me to or not_

_Whether you want me to or not_

It is silent for one or two seconds after Nino has played the last note on his piano, and then the crowd breaks out in cheers and shouts. He feels more shaken than ever, and even though he doesn’t show it, a look through the stadium sends shivers through his whole body. He hears thousands upon thousands of people calling his name, the colourful ocean of lights waving in irregular patterns, and Nino remembers a little too late to get up and leave the stage. Someone tells him through his in-ear monitors.

Nino only notices how a couple of tears are running down his cheeks when he has stumbled down the staircase from earlier, three staff members immediately surrounding him and squeezing him into the next stage outfit. The other Arashi members are already out on the stage again and performing the next song.

“Ninomiya-kun, if I—if I may,” the stylist hesitantly speaks up, obviously torn between wanting to be polite and being under immense time pressure.

“Huh?” Nino makes dumbly, and his voice doesn’t sound like his own. His brain is still completely occupied with the song he has just performed—with all those words, with the lyrics he has poured so many of his own, true feelings into. Have the fans noticed? And, most importantly—has Ohno noticed?

Nino swallows and looks helplessly up to the stylist while the other two staff members lift his lifeless arms and shove them through the sleeves of a shiny coat.

The stylist wordlessly wipes the tears away from Nino’s cheeks and quickly covers his face in powder again.

Fuck. He had _cried_.

“That was sweat,” Nino states matter-of-factly, his voice nothing more than a whisper, and humiliation washes over him. The stylist nods without further comment, but still Nino feels awfully embarrassed because _he hadn’t even noticed_ those tears.

He gets led up the stairs again, and he is so out of it he cannot even recognize the song that is playing right now.

“Have I—“, he starts, and then clears his throat while looking back to his stylist, “Did I— _sweat_ during my performance as well?” Yes, he had sweat, he had _not_ cried.

His stomach convulses painfully when his stylist gives another hesitant nod from the lower end of the staircase.

 

*

 

The concert is over in the blink of an eye, all blurry and covered in waves and oceans of fans with their lights, shouting their names, confessing their love over and over again. It is adorable, really, but all of it is too much for Nino to bear. His brain had switched to auto-pilot from the moment his solo performance had been over, and he only perceives his surroundings again after he has entered their changing rooms backstage.

The casual “good work today!”-shouts are surrounding him, just like bow after bow after bow he gives and receives from every single person he passes until he can throw himself onto a leather couch in one of their rooms, wishing he could just pass out right here and not move again for the next year or two. Shuffling noises are all around him, and he can hear Sho and Jun talking with each other in the other corner of the room. Aiba’s clear and loud laughter is another constant background noise, indicating that the concert has gone well.

Every single limb of Nino’s body is aching and feels numb, and thus he truly doesn’t move anything of his body anymore for the next ten minutes, until he can hear footsteps coming closer. Quietly, silently, without a word.

Nino forces himself to open one eye to check who his ‘visitor’ is, and he only has to look at those hips for half a second to identify them as Ohno’s. His body snaps awake instantly and his reflexes are so fast that he is jumping up again into a standing position before he even realizes it.

Ohno looks exhausted and sleepy, but happiness is shining in those brown, endless depths that are his eyes, and Nino sighs inaudibly. Ohno’s pouty lips are quirked up into a satisfied smile, and Nino just wants to kiss it. But, really—he doesn’t need this right now. Ohno is standing more than a metre away, but for Nino even that is too close.

“What?” He asks directly, not caring whether he sounds rude or not.

Ohno looks a bit lost for a moment, and then he opens his mouth.

“Your song, earlier,” he starts, uneasily. Nino feels weird because they haven’t really _talked_ in more than half a year, and now there aren’t even colourful, dim lights giving the whole atmosphere a magical touch like earlier.

It feels too real and too awkward for his chest _not_ to hurt at the bitter taste of ‘what if’s and ‘could have been’s he feels every time he interacts with Ohno for longer than he is comfortable with (which is, basically, everything longer than five seconds).

“Yes, what is with my song?” Nino implores dryly, frowning.

“It’s—“ Ohno seems to be desperately searching for words, longer and longer and longer, and then he simply swallows and shrugs. “It was very nice, if bitter,” he whispers and nods. “I liked it a lot. I hope you’ll be performing it more often.”

Nino instinctively crosses his arms in front of his chest and eyes Ohno sceptically. What is this supposed to mean? Is Ohno trying to be all good friends with him again now? After all that has happened? Nino snorts.

Ohno still looks helpless, and when their eyes meet, the other man winces barely visibly. Then he makes a step forward, almost a step too close into Nino’s personal space, and Nino’s alarms immediately go off. This is too close, and it is not going to happen.

“Nino, I just—“ Ohno speaks up, but Nino interrupts him immediately.

“How’s Shiori-san, Ohno-san? Is she well? Have you planned out a wedding already?” he cuts in coldly, taking a step back to keep their distance, his voice emotionless.

This time, Ohno flinches more visibly, and it seems to have worked its effect: Ohno breaks their eye contact, now looking like a beaten up puppy, and takes a step back. He looks like someone has slapped him in the face, and Nino faintly thinks that maybe, just maybe, _he_ had just slapped Ohno in the face, if only mentally.

“She’s well, thank you,” he mumbles, staring down at his fingers that are fumbling with the hem of his shirt nervously.

Nino smiles bitterly; Ohno didn’t have to answer his question. All of this seems so pointless right now, and Nino just wants to get away from this—get away from Ohno because he can’t stand his sight any longer.

“Well, good,” he uselessly answers and then pushes past Ohno, out of the dressing room, not looking back.

But Ohno seems not to be done yet, and he unexpectedly grabs for Nino’s wrist, pulling him back with that kind of strength only Ohno Satoshi owns; it hits Nino by surprise every time he is reminded of it. The grip feels warm and tight, and Nino _knows_ his feelings for Ohno are exploding in his chest right now. There is so much he wants from him, deep down in his heart, and even such a tiny touch means _so_ much to him already.

But for now, Nino can only stare at the other man in plain shock because Ohno had just dared to hold him back, and Nino has a hard time _not_ shoving his fist into Ohno’s face for it. They aren’t friends anymore and they _don’t touch_. They simply don’t. And Ohno has no right in the world to hold him back.

“Listen,” Ohno says now, his voice strong and determined, “Me and Shiori-san, we are—“

Nino frees himself from Ohno’s tight grip with all his strength the very second the name _Shiori-san_ slips through Ohno’s lips.

“ _I don’t care_ , alright? I don’t fucking care,” Nino throws at him hatefully, his eyes narrowed and burning with barely suppressed hatred and rage, “Tell that someone else who is actually _interested_.”

And then Nino is gone, out of the dressing room, and he almost _runs_ along the backstage area of the Tokyo Dome, grabbing the first staff member he can find and ordering him to organize a taxi as fast as possible. He just needs to get _out_ of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The next chapter *might* come a little later because this one had 5k words (as opposed to the usual 2-2,5k). But I'll see about that. :) It's written already anyway. And sorry that the lyrics in the chapter turned out so long, but I didn't want to cut them in any way, I didn't know a better solution.


	5. Chapter 5

On Ohno’s birthday, Nino doesn’t write a message.

He is sure the message he had received from Ohno on his birthday had been nothing but mockery anyway, or maybe it had been to relieve Ohno’s bad conscience. But Nino is better than that—he doesn’t write messages he doesn’t really mean.

He had made appointments to cover this whole day weeks ago already, and so Nino only gets home to his empty and quiet apartment around eight in the evening. Today is not a day he and Sho meet up for dinner, so he can just occupy his couch, drink beer, smoke another package of cigarettes and lose himself in a video game.

And not think of Ohno. By all means, not think of Ohno.

Seven cigarettes and a few levels of Ratchet & Clank later, his cellphone vibrates. Nino looks down to it, and when he sees Aiba’s name blink up, Nino sighs quietly and pauses the game to take up the call. As long as it is not Ohno, he is at least willing to talk to people on the phone.

“Yes?” He asks into the phone as soon as he picks it up. “This better be important because you’re interrupting my make-out session with my cigarettes _and_ my Wii.”

“I’m basically standing in front of your door, Nino,” Aiba greets him back cheerfully and Nino can _hear_ the wide grin on his friend’s face. “Come out, come out! But put on some proper clothes before. I hope you’re showered? Let’s go out drinking!”

Speaking of drinking, Nino eyes the three empty bottles of beer on his couch table with a frown.

“Tonight? Now?” He sighs, “I’m good, thanks. I already drank enough and have another stack of beer in my fridge. No need to go out. You can come in, though.” Nino regrets the offer the very second it rolls over his tongue, but then again he hasn’t had any visitors in months—the last one had probably been his sister at his birthday half a year ago—and Aiba is usually a pretty okayish companion for some beers and games.

Surprisingly, though, Aiba denies. “No,” he says, “Come out, Nino. There is a place I want to go with you. Free alcohol, alright? And smoking is allowed. Now, get your ass up, I’m waiting down here at the parking lot. Bye!”

Nino opens his mouth to protest, but Aiba has hung up before Nino can get a word out.

Okay, _what_?

Nino sighs quietly and sits up straight, finishing the half-smoked cigarette in his right hand with a few, deep pulls before pushing it out in the ashtray and leaning his head back, sighing loudly. What is Aiba trying to do?

 

*

 

Nino doesn’t even know why he has agreed to going out with Aiba, but he definitely regrets his naivety when Aiba stops his car in front of _Ohno’s_ family’s old house. And while one part of Nino’s mind is asking itself if Ohno is _really_ still living with his mom, the other (and a lot bigger) part of his mind is just screaming at him to run away.

“I’m not going in there,” he immediately protests when Aiba turns off the engine. “I thought you knew my situation best. I certainly do not have any intention of spending my evening with Ohno. Especially not on his birthday.”

Aiba sighs and opens his mouth, but Nino lifts a hand before Aiba can even protest with words. “Don’t you even _try_ and talk me into it. If you don’t drive me home _now_ , I’m going to call a cab and you’ll pay it.” He stubbornly crosses his arms in front of his chest and pulls his mouth into a pout. “No way I’m going in there. End of discussion.”

 

Nino doesn’t know how he ends up on Ohno’s doorstep a minute later, but the rough (yet kind of gentle) grip of Aiba’s hand around the nape of his neck might be the reason for it.

“I don’t even have a present,” Nino hisses as Aiba pushes the doorbell.

“Doesn’t matter, he didn’t expect you to come anyway. You’ll be present enough.” Aiba nods and smiles reassuringly.

Nino looks up to Aiba with a big, sarcastic fake-smile. “I’m sure Ohno will jump out of the window out of happiness.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Aiba chirps back without missing a beat, his smile not faltering, “the party is on the ground floor. He wouldn’t get hurt, even if he were to jump.”

“Now _that_ makes things better,” Nino grumbles _very_ grumpily.

Ikuta Tohma opens the door with a wide grin and the smell of beer immediately enters Nino’s nose.

“Aiba-chan! Nino!” The man greets, sounding even drunker than he looks. “You’re late to the party! So many people, huh! Ohno-kun is—oh, I don’t know where he is. So I thought I’d open the door. Come in.” Tohma is giggling a bit and Nino furrows his brow—Tohma really seems a little creepy when outright drunk. But, honestly—Nino knows he will probably talk to no one tonight anyway and busy himself with nothing but smoking and drinking. In an hour, tops, he will be no more eloquent than Tohma is right now.

“Yeah,” he mumbles back a greeting and nods. Aiba smiles a bright smile, almost as if he wants to even out Nino’s grumpiness.

“Let’s get in,” he repeats Tohma’s words and pushes Nino in ahead of himself. Nino surrenders silently, trying not to look around too much when they enter the rather traditional looking, Japanese house and take their shoes off in the entrance.

All of it looks very familiar, though—back then, one or two years into their career as Arashi, Nino had been here very often. He and Ohno had always got along with each other smoothly, had always been something between best friends and “too touchy to actually really be _just friends_ ”, and especially Ohno’s mother had frequently asked for Nino to visit more often. They had shared dinner with Ohno’s family countless times, Nino had slept over—but all of this feels like it is so long ago now.

The furniture in the entrance way still looks the same, though, and nostalgia washes over Nino in unexpectedly strong waves. Back then, things had been perfect—Nino had only been starting to fall in love with Ohno, and he had been absolutely satisfied with just hugging himself against Ohno at night in his narrow bed. He had wanted to kiss him, too, but not _as_ desperately. When Nino thinks back on all of their shared memories, shared time, shared friendship now, he cannot name one single thing he wishes had been different.

Well, except maybe for the fact that Nino wishes Ohno had started to fall in love with him, too, back then. But that hadn’t happened, and Nino knows better than to dwell on the past now.

Nino ducks his head behind Aiba when they enter the living-room area. Noises are coming from the kitchen, too, but most people are in the living-room and dining area of the house, sitting, standing around, a drink in their hands. Nino spots Jun and Sho, too, and several other friends of Ohno. Some of them Nino recognizes (at least the famous ones), some he doesn’t know at all. Friends from his fishing club, perhaps. But Nino doesn’t really care. He can’t spot Ohno, and for the moment he is relieved.

Tohma goes right back to the group of people he had probably been talking to before and Aiba walks straight into the kitchen, greeting basically everyone on the way there. Nino nods at everyone politely but doesn’t say a word, even when both Jun and especially Sho look surprised at seeing him here.

Twenty minutes later, Nino is sitting alone at the edge of the otherwise empty two-seater couch, nipping at his second beer and sighing in frustration. People around him talk and laugh noisily, some pop music is playing in the background, and both the armchair and the other, bigger couch are stuffed with people who are enthusiastically discussing something Nino doesn’t care about.

Great evening, really. Nino already feels regret creeping up within him. It is his own fault, for sitting all alone here like a picture of misery, considering he could just get up and join one of those groups of people. He knows most of them anyway and some people have already glanced over to him curiously, interested. They would probably be thrilled to have a talk with him, but honestly, Nino doesn’t want to. He feels too drunk as well, and he isn’t sure if he could even have a proper conversation in Ohno Satoshi’s house while being in (unrequited) love with him _and_ suffering from a serious depression.

A far better idea, however, is to finally get back to smoking. Cigarettes don’t talk, they just relax and calm down.

Nino empties his second bottle of beer, feeling how the alcohol is almost throbbing through his veins. Nino has never been a good and strong drinker and usually it bothers him, but on occasions like these, he is thankful for it. He doesn’t feel like he could stay here even one more minute _without_ being drunk, and to be honest, he will probably only smoke one or two cigarettes and then hopefully just slip out of the house, call a cab and go home again—and think of this incident as _the time I accidentally and awkwardly bumped into Ohno’s birthday party, didn’t even meet him and left again immediately_.

Nino’s eyes are pinned down to the package of his cigarettes so his uncoordinated fingers can manage to fumble one of them out when a hand stops his fingers’ movements.

The back of said hand is a sun-kissed brown, the fingers are long and slim. Almost too beautiful to be owned by a man, and yet Nino gasps because he knows very well whom these fingers belong to.

“Ohno,” he breathes soundlessly, feeling the couch giving in next to him as someone sits down. It is so, so obviously Ohno—Nino doesn’t even have to look up to check. The scent that enters his nostrils is too clear and familiar.

“I thought you’d remember,” Ohno’s soft voice cuts through the mixture of voices, laughter and music mashed together into one constant sound in the background.

Nino dares to slowly turn his head to the side until his eyes meet Ohno’s figure. He wants to chuckle because Ohno looks as mesmerizing as ever, his hair now dyed black and like always standing up into every direction possible. He looks tired, a little drunk, and just like _his_ adorable Oh-chan. But Nino has never doubted this would ever change.

“Remember what?” He asks, trying to sound casual while pulling out the cigarette from his package completely.

But there is it again: Ohno’s hand lunging forward, this time holding Nino’s hand mid-movement. The warm touch sends a burning sensation down Nino’s spine, making his cheeks grow warm from embarrassment because _this_ is all his body needs to go crazy already.

“That my mom hates smoke,” Ohno explains with a pouty smile.

“Oh,” Nino dumbly makes, and now he notices: No one in the whole room smokes, and earlier he hadn’t seen anyone smoke in the kitchen either. It doesn’t even smell of smoke at all.

 _Well, fuck you too, Aiba, for your empty promises,_ Nino thinks frustratedly and puts the cigarette away.

“Hmpf,” he makes a quiet sound of protest, though. He doesn’t want to mention how much more of a smoker he has become since that one night more than half a year ago, but by now it is hard for him to go without a cigarette for more than an hour. He already itches to smoke one.

Ohno withdraws his hand again, but Nino hasn’t stopped looking at him at all. It feels so weird, being at Ohno’s birthday party so unexpectedly, and Nino feels awkward and uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to spend the evening with Ohno.

“I don’t have a birthday present for you,” he unnecessarily says.

“Mmh,” Ohno makes, taking a sip from his beer. “Ah, right,” he continues, “here. I brought one for you, too.” Ohno bends down to grasp a bottle of beer he had temporarily placed on the floor and pushes it into Nino’s hand. Nino nods shortly and starts drinking as well. He has already emptied five or six beers tonight all in all, and he feels like it doesn’t need much more to get him drunk to a point where he would stop thinking—would stop _feeling_ , at least temporarily.

They sit in silence for a while and Nino has the grace to look into his lap instead of Ohno’s face because he doesn’t want to seem rude. But even without looking at him, Nino can feel the older man’s body warmth—they are just sitting that closely together on the narrow couch. Ohno sits with his legs spread widely and Nino catches himself thinking that this is the position Ohno would usually take in if Nino were to give him a blowjob.

But those times are over, just like their time together is, and Nino doesn’t want to give in to delusions. He doesn’t even know why Ohno is bothering with him right now. They aren’t even talking; Ohno is doing nothing but sip from his beer, and _still_ he seems like he is almost enjoying their somewhat-closeness.

“You don’t have to sit here with me,” Nino mumbles into his lap.

“Hm?” Ohno questions with a nasal sound. Nino chuckles because this is just so _Ohno_.

“You surely have better options for company than me. You should spend your time with someone else instead of—of sitting here with _me_.”

Ohno doesn’t answer for a while, so Nino decides to speak up again.

“With Shiori-san, for example,” he adds quietly, hoping he doesn’t completely look or sound like a kicked puppy. But he isn’t so good at pretending anymore—not after months and months of depression and sadness. Not to mention he is somewhat ‘out of practice’.

Ohno looks up to Nino with a frown and then shakes his head. “She’s not here,” he simply replies and makes a waving gesture with his hand. “She didn’t have time.”

Nino follows the hand gesture with his eyes, noticing again the dark tan Ohno is covered in completely.

“Did you go fishing?” He asks because of that, taking a sip of his beer to calm himself down. All of this feels so surreal and unrealistic—like it isn’t even happening. Nino cannot believe how _naturally_ he and Ohno seem to still be able to hold a conversation, despite everything.

Ohno laughs a bit, and Nino thinks it is the most charming sound he has heard in over half a year. “Yeah,” he answers while looking down at his own body. “Am I that tanned?”

Nino finds himself smiling back, the corners of his mouth quirking up in happiness as he realizes just _how_ happy it makes him to see Ohno laugh.

“You’re pretty tanned,” he whispers, _and you look so good with it_ , he thinks.

But then Nino remembers that Ohno isn’t supposed to make him happy anymore, and that the endorphins starting to wash over his body aren’t supposed to be there, either. Ohno makes him smile like this, but he also makes him crave for so much more—for things Ohno isn’t willing to give, and Nino has learnt the hard way that just taking what Ohno is willing to give and trying to live with it brings more pain than pleasure.

The smile drops from his lips again and he tries to compose himself, looking away.

“Does Shiori-san like fishing, too?” he asks after a while, only a little bit of bitterness slipping into his voice. “Does she go together with you?” It hurts to ask this, but Nino tells himself he has to keep a realistic focus on this. He is not in the position to flirt with Ohno.

“Why do you even want to know that?” Ohno shoots back, with a voice harder than expected, making Nino wince slightly. The words go straight to his heart and the old and familiar, throbbing pain returns.

Right, he reminds himself, he isn’t even _friends_ with Ohno anymore. He has no right to ask this. It is none of his business—and it is his _own_ fault. He has cut off the friendship to Ohno in the first place after all, so what is he expecting? That Ohno shares intimate details about his relationship with his girlfriend with Nino when he and Ohno haven’t even really _talked_ in such a long time?

“I—I just—“ Nino tries to explain himself instantly, stuttering, but he is lacking words. He cannot look Ohno in the face either, and suddenly he feels so small and unwanted again. “I’m sorry, I had no right to ask such a private thing. I—just always imagined,” Nino pauses for a moment and inwardly calms himself down, tries to remain at least a little bit of his composure, and forces himself to look up into Ohno’s face with the faintest of distant, polite smiles, “I always wished for you to find someone—a woman whom you can share your passion with. About fishing. That’s all.”

 _Because I could never go with you_ , Nino sadly adds in his mind and bites his lip. Ohno is aware of his seasickness, after all—but Nino knows that even if he could have gone fishing with Ohno, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

“But it’s not my business anyway. Forget that I asked,” he rushedly ends his explanation and ducks his head respectfully in apology. After that, Nino turns away, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, and he downs the rest of the beer still left in his bottle in one go. How stupid of him, really—he unconsciously grits his teeth and plans to simply leave the next chance he gets. He doesn’t want to ruin things any more than he already has.

“She doesn’t go fishing with me,” Ohno unexpectedly answers, and when Nino looks up again, the older man is so much _closer_ to him than before, carefully, slowly, gently putting one of his arms around Nino’s shoulders and pulling him near. Nino is too much caught off-guard to protest, letting Ohno manoeuvre Nino’s head to rest against his chest, so close that Nino can hear Ohno’s heartbeat.

“Just stop being silly, Kazu,” Ohno sighs into Nino’s longish, black hair and lifts up his other hand to start threading his fingers through it at a slow pace, tenderly, lovingly.

Nino swears that if he were a cat he would outright purr right now. But for one he isn’t a cat, and for two he is simply too shocked about the fact that within ten seconds, he has ended up in Ohno’s arms. Just like that.

Nino wants to protest, wants to pout, wants to say something back. _Being stupid,_ me _? Why? Because I’m assuming you’d rather spend quality time with your girlfriend slash fiancée than with me? Because you have_ shown _me that you prefer her to me? I wouldn’t call that being stupid, I would call that being realistic. Realistic, and a little bit hurt, perhaps._

But not a single word leaves Nino’s lips; he feels too comfortable like this, hugged against the chest of the man he loves so much, listening to his calming heartbeat, and he instinctively closes his eyes to enjoy it even more. There are still the guests of Ohno’s party around them in the same room. Nino isn’t sure if it is the alcohol that causes him not to care at all, but it probably is.

“’m not being silly,” Nino mumbles back after some time, lifting his head just a tiny bit so he can push his face into the crook of Ohno’s neck—so soft and warm. Nino’s left arm slithers around Ohno’s waist without his clear, sober consent, and ends up resting on Ohno’s hipbone, but the other man doesn’t protest.

They are so intimate like this, with Nino hugging himself to Ohno from the side and pulling him even closer through his grip on Ohno’s hip, his face buried in the crook of Ohno’s neck. It smells so good right there, and Nino takes a lungful of Ohno, both his mouth and nose touching the soft, offered up skin. _So much better than cigarettes_ is all he can think.

Ohno doesn’t seem to mind. And even though something deep, deep down in Nino’s mind tries to tell him that all of this is _not_ a good idea, that there are reasons for them to better _not_ do what they are doing right now, Nino pushes the thoughts away the second they enter his mind.

“Mm,” is Ohno’s only response; Nino can feel Ohno’s neck move slightly under his nose and lips when he makes the sound.

Nino feels so drunk with alcohol, endorphins and _Ohno_ , and he can’t help but giggle a little into Ohno’s neck, making the older man furrow his brows in confusion. Ohno never ceases threading his fingers through Nino’s hair, though, and at some point Nino actually finds himself sighing to it contently.

“When you went fishing…” Nino mumbles quietly, lifting his head so he can look up into Ohno’s face, “Did you catch something?”

Nino feels Ohno’s breath against his face, and a hot yet cold shiver runs down his spine, making his body tremble all over for a moment.

Ohno looks down to him, and it seems that he has sensed the slight shiver because his lips quirk up into the faintest of smug smirks. His long fingers run through Nino’s hair again, pushing it gently out of his face, and then he lets his fingertips slide down along Nino’s neck, following a barely visible vein there, down to the collarbone.

“Yeah,” he says, still looking into Nino’s face with glassy eyes. _Ohno is clearly tipsy, too, at the very least_ , Nino thinks, _and his lips look as kissable as ever_. “Some real big fish. But I couldn’t prepare it.”

“I could have prepared it for you,” Nino utters without even thinking, his eyes zeroing in on Ohno’s mouth. Ohno laughs.

Seriously, how had he managed to survive more than half a year _without_ lying in Ohno’s arms like this? _Without_ being hugged tightly to the other man’s side, without seeing Ohno from up close, laughing, smiling, talking to him in his oh-so-gentle voice? Nino swallows, his blurry mind barely being able to catch up with his absurdly fast heartbeat.

“Next time, I’ll bring the fish to you then,” Ohno answers so naturally that Nino’s cheeks grow warm. “And you’ll prepare it for us?”

Nino’s cheeks grow even warmer, and he hides his face in Ohno’s neck again embarrassedly, sighing shakily.

“Okay,” he breathily responds.

 _Us._ Ohno had said _us._ It makes Nino so ridiculously happy that he is ashamed of it.

Ohno’s hand had absent-mindedly followed the sharp form of Nino’s protruding collarbone for a while, but now it is wandering lower, over Nino’s side, settling down there and pulling him even closer than before. They are sharing so much of their body warmth by now and the alcohol only enhances it—Nino almost feels like he is suffocating from how hot his body has grown, and the fact that his crotch is _somewhat_ pressed into Ohno’s hip isn’t really helping.

“Oh-chan,” Nino breathes out, against Ohno’s skin. He feels Ohno shudder under him this time as Nino’s mouth is still pressed softly into the older man’s neck.

“There is still a fish I didn’t catch yet, though,” Ohno murmurs into Nino’s hair. Nino immediately lifts up his head to look Ohno in the face from up close—because _really_ , are they going to have a _serious_ fish talk now?

“You want to know what kind of fish?” Ohno implores further, making Nino frown. Usually, he would probably feel hot and cold (well, he _does_ feel hot and cold), looking into Ohno’s eyes from barely an inch away, but the fish-talk is upsetting Nino’s drunk mind too much for it to be a priority right now.

“You _know_ I have no idea about fish breeds,” Nino tries to laugh Ohno’s question off, shaking his head. “Let’s— let’s _not_ talk about fish, alright?”

“I didn’t manage to catch a Nino-fish yet,” Ohno answers, though, and Nino’s breath hitches.

Suddenly Nino _does_ realize how extremely close they are, and he also realizes why this feels so _new_ to him: Between Ohno and him have happened countless things as intimate as sex, yet Nino _still_ has never been able to kiss Ohno for real.

But here, but _now_ he can feel Ohno’s breath against his own mouth; he knows he has to do as little as to bend forward one more inch for their lips to meet. So close—

“Nino-fish?” Nino breathes out so quietly that he can barely hear himself. His voice is trembling, too, but fortunately he hasn't said enough for Ohno to notice.

Ohno nods, never once breaking eye contact, “Mhm,” he confirms. Nino feels so clearly how the hand resting on his side vanishes for a moment, only so Ohno can cup his cheek with it instead.

“But tell you what?” Ohno murmurs.

Nino gulps, and he hopes Ohno doesn’t see it.

“Yeah?” is all he can provide as an answer; his brain has long since stopped working.

“I think I might finally catch him tonight,” Ohno whispers. Nino doesn’t even _understand_ the meaning of those words anymore. All he knows is one thing: This is it. The kiss is coming.

Ohno’s hand against his cheek feels even hotter than before when he closes the gap between their faces and kisses him, lips on lips. It doesn’t matter that they aren’t alone right now; in fact Nino isn’t even _aware_ of that anymore. His eyes flutter closed instantly, his mouth hesitantly moving against Ohno’s, and he has to smile into the kiss when he realizes how Ohno’s lips are so much _more_ kissable than they look. _And mind you_ , he thinks, _they already look like the most kissable lips in the world._

Ohno moves his mouth against Nino’s languidly, his tongue licking over Nino’s lips slowly and wetly. It feels like a dream, really, because this innocent kiss already sends all the blood of Nino’s body south, and he feels his pants tighten the moment he parts his lips to let Ohno’s tongue in, a tiny gasp escaping his throat. Nino’s whole body is tingling with excitement because this is _Ohno_ and this is what he has been wishing for for longer than he can remember.

Nino doesn’t know what exactly happens next, but there is a loud, clear laughter next to them, and then Ohno is pulled away from him within the blink of an eye. Nino gets pushed into the furthest corner of the two-seater couch and can only widen his eyes and stare at what is happening in front of him, feeling like his heartbeat is shaking his whole body to the core.

Aiba is sitting there, making sure to push Ohno and Nino as far apart as possible so he can squeeze himself in-between them, and he is still laughing this loud kind of laugh, his face radiating happiness. Nino cannot even _believe_ it.

“What are you two doing here?!” Aiba asks, all sunshine and cheerfulness, looking from Ohno to Nino and back, “Practising for Ohmiya SK? You know, people are looking! Also, I told you I wanted to join, right? So how about you invite me to this too, at least?” Aiba giggles. Nino immediately knows that Aiba is just _acting_ as if he were incredibly drunk. In reality, he seems still quite sober to him, but that is completely beside the point anyway.

What matters is the fact that Ohno is not kissing him anymore, and Nino, his cheeks a rosy-red, his face all hot, does certainly not approve of it.

“What is this about?” He hisses, his voice rough and raspy from beer, shyness and the kiss from before, “I—me and Oh-chan, we—“

“How about OhMiyaAi SKM?” Aiba counters without even answering to Nino’s words, “I want to get a kiss, too!”

Nino feels hot and exhausted, his mind so affected by the alcohol that his view is so damn blurry. His brain works more slowly than usual, too, and so he has a hard time catching on. Instead, he tries to look over to Ohno longingly who is now so far away from him—too far, what with Aiba sitting in-between them. Ohno looks back, his lips shining with saliva (and this time Nino knows _he_ has caused this, and it feels _incredible_ ), his eyes wide from shock, as if realization of what had happened has just sunk in.

And when Nino looks back to Aiba who is staring at him wordlessly, his eyes filled with worry, anger and despair, a sharp contrast to his bright smile, Nino’s brain snaps awake.

Aiba has come to _protect_ him, because he knows that what has happened between him and Ohno hadn’t been _supposed_ to happen. They had kissed, and regarding their past, regarding the fact that Ohno is taken, regarding the fact that Nino is so in love with Ohno when Ohno _isn’t_ with him—regarding _everything_ , this has probably been the dumbest thing they could have done.

Nino’s chest convulses in pain at the realization of all of this, and he presses himself even more into the corner of the couch, nodding to Aiba’s words with a slight tremble.

“Right,” Nino whispers. “I—I _forgot_.”

He would probably have appreciated Aiba’s brilliance right then for butting in with a funny excuse to save the situation—to save _Nino_ —but he feels too sick with his own emotions, with the kiss, with having given in to the illusion of finally having everything he has ever wished for; in this state of mind he cannot appreciate _anything_ anymore.

And so he gets up quickly instead—too fast for his body to adjust, and so he is shaking slightly when he bends forward, taking Aiba’s face into his hands.

“OhMiyaAi SKM, right?” He grins and pecks Aiba on the mouth—a few people are still watching, and so he has to play along, whether he wants to or not. Still, the kiss is only a fleeting one, for show, and Nino pulls back after a moment.

“Satisfied?” He asks steps back.

Aiba nods, grinning, immediately turning to Ohno, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to steal a peck from him, too. “Now I need a kiss from you as well,” he explains with a laugh, but Ohno is struggling a bit and so Aiba can only get away with a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll leave then, so you can practice more without me,” Nino jokes with a false grin, trying to sound funny although his face mirrors more pain than anything else at the view of Aiba and Ohno. He looks back to Aiba, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ and turns away to leave without paying any more attention to Ohno. He had already noticed earlier how _shocked_ Ohno had looked—probably at the realization of having ‘cheated’ on his girlfriend—and Nino feels miserable enough because of it as it is. He doesn’t need to see Ohno’s regretful eyes on him right now—because that is what Ohno must be feeling: Nothing but regret. Right?

“Thank you for the party. Bye,” he says and walks out of the living-room without another word.

“Get home safely!” Aiba shouts after him with a laugh that sounds more fake than real.

Nino is already calling a cab while slipping into his shoes and coat, and orders it to pick him up from here while he leaves the house. He ducks his head as he walks away from Ohno’s place without looking back, sighing deeply, his body slowly calming down from all the adrenaline and endorphins.

Well, shit.

Nino doesn’t even know what to _think_ of it all as he frustratedly squats down on the ground, leaning with his back against the low wall that is surrounding Ohno’s family’s house, and just silently stares down at the pavement in front of him.

So they had kissed. Actually, as drunk as Nino is, he is very sure that it had been _Ohno_ who had kissed _him_. And the whole fish-talk from before that had clearly been flirting, hadn’t it? Nevertheless, obviously, Ohno had looked so regretful when Aiba had separated them.

And Ohno has a girlfriend, damn it. A girlfriend whose parents he has already met.

Nino presses his lips together and squeezes his eyes shut, not even realizing how his hands curl into tight fists.

“Shit,” he whispers into the cold night, again and again. “ _Shit, shit, shit_.”

Hopefully, at least the taxi will arrive soon; Nino knows that this is all he can hope for. As much as the cold night air helps his brain to clear up, he still feels too out of it to even analyse the whole situation properly.

All he knows is that he had kissed a happily taken man after more than half a year of barely existent contact with him, a man he happens to be crazily in love with, a man he had had some kind of affair with over _years_ —a man who has the power to ruin his whole life completely, although Ohno probably isn’t even aware of that.

Nino is shaking when he thinks about it and starts blinking rapidly because he is _not_ going to cry now. His eyes are _not_ burning.

No matter how he looks at the situation, Nino is awfully aware of the fact that this shouldn’t have happened. Nino should have known better than to brush off the bad feeling he had already had the very moment he had sat down in Aiba’s car earlier. Why hadn’t he just—stayed home?

“Shit,” he curses again, a little louder this time, and grits his teeth when a stupid tear runs down his cheek, only to be wiped away by the back of his hand immediately.

Suddenly, though, Nino feels his cellphone vibrate. He pulls it out of his coat with a trembling sigh. Nino has no idea who would be as stupid as to call him this late, really, and he is just about to take up the call and snap at the person on the other end of the line how he is damn busy _not crying_ and _not hating himself_ because he has _not ruined everything with Ohno completely_. _Again_.

But it is Ohno’s name that blinks up on his screen.

 _Not Ohno_ , Nino corrects silently, _Oh-chan._ He still hasn’t changed Ohno’s name in his phone.

Nino automatically turns his head a little and looks back to Ohno’s house sadly, but winces back when right there, behind the living-room window, Ohno is actually _standing and watching him_. Nino almost loses his balance at that and quickly gets back up on his feet, fully turning to the house, and just silently stares at Ohno for a moment. _His Ohno_ , Nino wants to think. Standing there, looking right back at him, cellphone pressed to his ear.

Nino swallows as he picks up the call. He can immediately hear Ohno breathe out.

In the corner of his eye he notices something light up and instinctively looks over to the source of light to check: The taxi is arriving.

“Why are you calling?” Nino asks into the phone when he turns his head back to the window where Ohno is standing.

Even from this distance, Nino can see how Ohno swallows and his prominent Adam’s apple moves visibly. Nino’s chance to ever get to mouth it is over, though. It could have happened tonight, maybe—but it hadn’t, and that is it. Nino cannot help but smile ironically because he feels like his own life is mocking him; it has always been so perfect at forcing Nino to watch his chances pass by from afar without being able to reach them, after all.

“Because Masaki won’t let me go out to you,” Ohno mumbles with a pout on his lips.

“I guessed as much,” Nino utters. The taxi stops behind him and the driver opens a window.

“Did you order this taxi, sir?” He asks politely, and Nino gives a quick nod. The taxi driver closes the window again, waiting patiently.

“Don’t go,” Ohno whispers through the phone, drawing Nino’s attention right back to him. Ohno looks so awfully lost over there, behind the window, all pouty lips, round cheeks and furrowed brows. He is drunk too, though, Nino tells himself, and shakes his head. Ohno doesn’t _mean_ what he is saying, _can’t_ mean what he is saying—not in the state of mind he is in.

“Don’t go, please,” Ohno repeats, begging. “Just come back in. I need to talk to you.”

Nino looks over to Ohno for a long moment; he is aware of every fibre of his body, can feel his cold hands, his nervously beating heart, his still somewhat heated up cheeks and the goosebumps at the nape of his neck.

There is Ohno Satoshi standing barely ten metres away, outright _begging_ Nino to stay, and Nino can only take so much. It is almost impossible to refuse this—Nino’s heart is already aching at the mere view of Ohno being so desperate. _Desperate for me_ , Nino thinks, trying to swallow down the heavily throbbing lump in his throat.

“You’re drunk,” he mumbles, and although Ohno shakes his head, Nino continues, “ _We’re_ drunk.”

“Am not,” Ohno protests quietly, but his voice is faltering.

“Good night, Ohno-kun,” Nino finally settles on saying, lowers his head in the hint of a bow, and turns away to open the door of the taxi, the phone still pressed to his ear. There is no use talking to a drunk Ohno, and there is certainly no use prolonging this any more than absolutely necessary either.

“ _Kazu_ ,” Ohno breathes, his voice nothing more than a whisper so forlorn that it makes Nino’s stomach cramp up. “ _Please.”_

Nino only looks back for another second, but then he can’t stand looking at Ohno anymore and turns away for good.

“Happy Birthday,” Nino says bitterly and hangs up.

He doesn’t look back, doesn’t turn around anymore, knowing that seeing Ohno’s face right now would break him.

Instead, Nino sits down in the taxi, pulls the door close a bit more noisily than necessary, and gestures for the taxi driver to just _drive_. Away from here, away from Ohno. Just away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kay, so this got kinda long. I don't even know why exactly, but I usually try to get into Nino's mindset when writing this, and this is just how I'd imagine a person would perceive such an evening. Also I maybe wanted to make up for barely-there Ohno/Nino scenes up until now with such a detailed cuddling/kissing/flirting scene, so I hope that although it got kinda long, you still enjoyed it? :) I'm right now working on the next chapter, but this time I can't promise anymore to upload it in 6-7 days. I'll try my best, but Pokemon came out today (which I'm going to buy now *cough*) and Monday university starts again (I had holidays up until now) so I'll be a tad more busy. But I'm working on this fic and you should get a new chapter shortly!
> 
> As always, comments are very much appreciated. ❤ And a big thank you to everyone who has commented up until now and has followed my Ohmiya series with support. I'm grateful to you all! :)


	6. Chapter 6

There is no need for Nino to try and describe how shitty he feels the next morning when he arrives at the studio. He lingers outside in the parking lot longer than usual, smoking three cigarettes instead of one, and only enters the building the moment his cellphone shows he is already ten minutes late for practice.

But as much as he hates being actually late to any appointment, he hates the possibility of running into someone and having to talk to them before training more—and most of all, the possibility of running into Ohno.

The moment Nino enters the studio dressing room, however, he realizes he has miscalculated the situation. The others should already be out in the studio, working on memorizing the choreography of their upcoming single.

And yet, there he is: Ohno Satoshi, sitting on one of the benches, stoically tying and untying his shoelaces over and over again.

Nino just looks at the sight that greets him for a long moment, taking in Ohno’s slumped down form, covered in sweatpants and a worn out t-shirt he had already been wearing during their early debut practices. _I love Kyoto_ , it reads, with a little traditional temple-print on the chest.

Memories from their debut days are pulling at the edges of Nino’s mind: Ohno, only wearing a pair of boxers and this washed out, old t-shirt as he is hugging himself to Nino’s side, both of them lying in Ohno’s narrow bed, sharing a blanket, cuddling. Nino’s face being pressed into Ohno’s freshly washed hair, the scent of Ohno’s shampoo entering his nostrils. Ohno picking his nose, thinking Nino doesn’t notice, and Nino finding it too adorable to say anything.

“You’re a pig,” he would say later, though.

“You’re hugging me anyway,” Ohno would retort, pulling Nino close, and they would fall asleep like that, all intertwined limbs and shared body warmth.

The memory feels warm and cosy, and if Nino could, he would enter it and stay in it forever. However, for now he only barely noticeably shakes his head, trying to get rid of those memories that make it almost unbearable to look at Ohno without being eaten up by regret and sorrow.

Ohno looks cute with his pink tongue peeking out from his lips, brows furrowed in the slightest hint of concentration. Except for those deep, dark circles under his eyes, Ohno looks as good as always; nothing alludes to the drama that has happened last night.

Nino enters the room fully and drops his gym bag down on another bench noisily, on the furthest end of the room, far away from Ohno.

“Are you really that bad at tying your shoes?” He asks, feeling awkward. “Or is this your lame attempt at finding an excuse to wait for me?”

Ohno looks up at him immediately, his eyes unreadable, his fingers stilling.

“Or do you want me to kneel down?” Nino speaks further; he doesn’t even know why he is in such a mocking mood right now but he can’t help it. Maybe it is because of all the anger and confusion bubbling up in his stomach from last night—maybe it is because Ohno looks at him like none of it has affected _him_ at all.

“Kneel down for you,” Nino continues, and after a long, silent moment, he quietly adds: “And _tie your shoes_?”

Ohno looks hurt for a second, and then he clears his throat and looks back down to his shoes, tying them for the last time.

“I can do it myself,” he uselessly explains while Nino starts undressing.

“Very flexible, aren’t you,” Nino mocks sardonically, pulling down his pants and taking off his shirt.

“I meant my shoes,” Ohno mumbles. His face is still unreadable when Nino looks over. “I can tie my shoes myself.”

Nino stares at Ohno for a moment in silence, and then he suddenly cracks up at his own, dumb joke.

“So you can’t do _it_ yourself then?” He asks sarcastically, trying to cover his mouth with his hand to make it less obvious that he is basically laughing at his own joke right now.

Ohno pouts even more than usual, and he makes a face as if he were seriously offended, but then Nino sees it: The corners of Ohno’s mouth are twitching up, and half a second later, Ohno starts giggling too.

“So what?” He asks back, playfully, his giggling soon extending into laughter, and Nino can’t help but laugh with him. For a moment, their past doesn’t matter anymore—for a moment it is just Ohno, his best friend, whom he is laughing together with. It feels so light and comfortable, and Nino bitterly asks himself what exactly has ruined all of this. When exactly had their relationship started to eat itself up from the very core? When had the ease, this feeling of lightness vanished, only to be replaced by hurtful, awkward situations and painful pressure?

Nino turns away from Ohno to slip into his sweatpants, enjoying the sound of Ohno’s laughter ebbing away. It sounds as nice as Ohno’s drunken giggling had sounded last night.

Nino turns around again while taking up one of his Arashi band shirts he usually uses for dance practice, and he blinks when he finds Ohno standing barely half a metre away from him.

“About last night,” Ohno hesitantly speaks up now, fidgeting nervously with his long fingers, reluctantly looking into Nino’s face, “Kazu, I _really_ meant—“ Ohno takes a deep breath and shrugs. “I didn’t want you to go yet. I just—wish we had been alone.”

Nino sighs inaudibly, his heart aching painfully at those words. The endorphins that had just been rushing through his body from laughing together with Ohno are gone, and he doesn’t even know what to say. All of this seems so utterly pointless, and even if Ohno weren’t aware of Nino’s feelings, what is he trying to achieve with this? Does he want their old relationship-half-affair back?

Ohno is still fumbling with his fingers nervously, and it annoys Nino like crazy, especially when Ohno starts fidgeting with the hem of his Kyoto t-shirt as well.

“We were drunk,” Nino simply states, crossing his arms in front of his bare chest.

“Yes, but—“

“No buts. We were drunk, _I_ was drunk, and I didn’t even intend to touch you. Let alone anything more than just… touching. Don’t worry, though, Ohno-kun: It won’t happen again, I promise,” Nino explains coldly, forcing himself to constantly look straight into the other man’s face, “Since I don’t plan to spend any time with you alone in the future in the first place. Visiting you yesterday was just Masaki’s stupid idea.”

Nino takes a deep breath then and shrugs before finally putting on the t-shirt.

It seems that Nino’s words have rendered Ohno quiet, and now the older man is just silently looking at him, hurt and disappointed. But Nino knows there is no other way for him—for them. The easy relationship they used to have is gone, and all that is left are just complicated, annoying feelings.

“I always do stupid things when I’m drunk, huh,” Nino uselessly mumbles, though, recalling last night in front of his inner eye, and makes his way out of the changing room.

He can _hear_ Ohno chuckle sadly. “Yeah, me too,” he murmurs quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

Nino isn’t even fully out of the room yet when Ohno pulls him back unexpectedly yet roughly, unceremoniously pushing Nino into the unforgivingly hard wall next to the door. Nino tries to fight back out of reflex, but it seems Ohno has had enough—he just grasps both of Nino’s wrists and pins them to the wall as well, pressing his own body into Nino’s, making him completely immobile.

“What is this supposed to be, huh?” Nino immediately hisses hurtfully, struggling a little in Ohno’s relentless grip. “A repetition from that one night, or what? Do you remember now?”

Ohno is so close like this, Nino realizes, their bodies pressed flush against each other, Ohno’s body covering his own so perfectly. This is so _wrong_ —all of it is so, so wrong.

“I just don’t only do stupid things when I’m drunk,” Ohno explains shortly, “I do stupid things all the time.”

Nino almost laughs ironically because Ohno has no idea how accurate his words are.

“Oh, _believe_ me—“ _I know_ , he wants to spit, but Ohno bends forward and crushes their lips together forcefully, successfully stopping Nino from talking any further.

Nino can only widen his eyes when Ohno kisses him like that, demandingly parting Nino’s lips and pushing his tongue in instantly. Ohno doesn’t wait for Nino to react; a low moan is escaping his throat while Ohno starts sucking on Nino’s tongue hungrily and strongly, making the younger man feel like he is melting in Ohno’s grip. The kiss feels wet and rough and forced, and it seems like Ohno knows exactly what he is doing and where he wants to go with this. His tongue is exploring Nino’s unwillingly offered up mouth thoroughly, Ohno’s lips moving against Nino’s almost rhythmically, and Ohno only withdraws a tiny bit so he can lick over and suck on Nino’s lips instead.

Nino feels like all of this is a dream; he has no control over his body for the moment anymore and just _lets it happen—_ lets Ohno kiss him passionately and fiercely, lets Ohno’s tongue roam around in his mouth so it can reach every single undiscovered part in there and lick over it greedily. Ohno gasps into the kiss, and so does Nino, and soon enough his lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen.

“Ohno,” Nino wants to say, but all that escapes his mouth is a muffled whimper because Ohno won’t back off, won’t stop kissing him, won’t let him go. Nino struggles but Ohno’s grip around his wrists is as tight as ever, and Nino doesn’t even know why he finds himself kissing back desperately at some point. He tries to push Ohno’s tongue out of his mouth again, but the older man simply sucks Nino’s tongue into his _own_ mouth instead, urging him on to continue, and Nino simply gives in. How is he even supposed _not_ to—when _Ohno_ is doing this to him—?

It is the first time they kiss like this, as unromantically as imaginable with Ohno still making sure to keep Nino tightly pressed to the wall. Nino tries to at least gain some control back by fighting with Ohno’s tongue, trying to push it back, trying to dominate the kiss, but he can only explore Ohno’s mouth the tiniest bit, tasting cigarettes, before Ohno withdraws and bites down on Nino’s bottom lip instead. Nino is gasping desperately for air at this point already, his cheeks flushed and pink, his breath going hard and fast, and Ohno uses this moment of defencelessness to push a knee into his crotch, pressing down.

Nino widens his eyes, a dark groan slipping through his parted, swollen lips at this unexpected stimulation, and when he feels how Ohno has grown slightly hard against his thigh as well, Nino realizes where the older man wants all of this to go.

It is just like that one night more than half a year ago; only this time Nino isn’t begging for it and Ohno isn’t drunk.

“Stop,” Nino gasps as Ohno is licking and sucking his way down Nino’s chin and to his delicate neck, covering the soft, pale skin in possessive kisses. Ohno doesn’t seem to want to stop, though, and Nino struggles harder.

“Stop it, Satoshi,” Nino repeats, this time louder, just when Ohno has placed a wet kiss on Nino’s collarbone.

“Why?” is the only, breathy answer Nino gets while Ohno is sucking on his neck noisily, and Nino can barely hold back any more sounds of pleasure. His body is hot and shaky, and Ohno’s half-hard erection pushing against Nino’s leg is driving him insane.

But this is enough. This has to stop.

“Don’t touch me,” Nino hisses more loudly now, sounding seriously angry and struggling as much as he can; Ohno’s grip on his wrists hurts, but he has no choice.

When Ohno looks up, his eyes a little glassy, his pouty lips just as red and swollen as Nino’s own, Nino takes a quick breath and continues.

“Don’t,” he repeats again, “because it doesn’t belong to you.”

Ohno widens his eyes at this statement, and realization sinks into him. It is so obvious that Ohno understands _exactly_ what Nino means, and within a second, he has loosened the grip around Nino’s wrists completely and is backing off, his face flushed too, his teeth biting his lower lip.

Usually, Nino would have found the sight of a flushed Satoshi biting his lip, looking down to the floor, breathing raggedly and a clear bulge showing in his pants to be _very_ appealing. But right now he is not in the right mood for it.

Nino rubs his slightly hurting wrists to soothe them while stepping away from the wall; his heart is beating fast and his lips are burning from the rough kiss. His breath hasn’t slowed down yet, either.

Again, all of it feels so surreal.

“I’m sorry, Kazu,” Ohno whispers pitifully. He is fidgeting with his fingers again. “I just—all I wanted to do is talk to you. But you never listen.”

“So that was you _talking_ to me?” Nino shoots back without missing a beat.

Ohno looks up for only a second, and then he stares at his (now tied) shoes again, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

“No,” he plainly answers. “That was me kissing you.”

“Wow, Sherlock,” Nino snorts. He is still trembling a bit. “Stop playing with me. I’m not your toy. I didn’t ask you to hold me so tight it _hurt_ and kiss me like that, did I? But why am I not surprised that you don’t care for anything but your own, selfish needs?”

Ohno looks like he wants to retort something, like he wants to protest, but Nino just waves it off and turns to leave.

“You better get rid of your problem now because we are already almost half an hour late for practice,” he says. Then he looks back to Ohno over his shoulder for half a second. “Or, well,” he corrects himself, “ _I’m_ almost half an hour late. _You’ll_ probably be even later.”

Ohno flushes even harder in embarrassment, but Nino doesn’t care when he leaves the dressing room.

“Don’t _ever_ do that to me again,” he coldly warns and makes his way to the studio.

Ohno slowly slumps down on the wooden bench after hearing that, gritting his teeth because he is so angry and frustrated at himself. And still so hot.

“I can’t promise you that, Kazu,” he bitterly whispers, clenching his hands into fists helplessly.

 

*

 

Some time later, during a break while Nino is munching on one of Sho’s prepared onigiri, Nino’s manager calls.

“What is it?” Nino tiredly asks into the phone.

“Are you interested in a cameo in an upcoming drama? The filming would be next week, but it would only be one afternoon and evening,” the manager explains, getting straight to the point. Nino has figured out by now that he seems to be a resentful person because he still often acts like he is mad at Nino for that one interview some time ago.

“Yeah, whatever, I like full schedules,” Nino sighs. He really does because full schedules equal less time for self-destructive thoughts.

“Your agreement would be binding,” Iwata elaborates, just to make sure. Nino waves it off although his manager can’t see it.

“It’s fine. Just send the script over today.”

 

*

 

The script Nino later finds in his mailbox has the title _Maou_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "short" chapter this time-- or, well, actually it's normal in length. The two before were just longer than normal.  
> Anyway, sorry sorry for the long wait! University has started again since last week and I am supposed to be learning a lot. I also didn't really *feel* like writing; I would try and try and try and nothing would come out of it. To be perfectly honest, it was quite a fight to get this chapter done, and parts didn't go like I planned... but I guess you liked the outcome (or so I hope). Planned are just 2-3 more chapters, and I promise you'll finally get a proper explanation of Ohno's behaviour. Well, _he_ 'll give it to you.
> 
> For now, though, I hoped you liked this chapter. Comments are, as always, appreciated, and especially right now that I'm somewhat low on motivation, they help a lot. :)
> 
> See you next time! I'll upload the next chapter once it's done (I'm busy, but whenever I have time I'm working on this fic.)
> 
> EDIT: Just FYI: When Nino says "don't-- because it doesn't belong to you", he actually repeats the words Ohno has (indirectly) said to Nino back then when Nino had tried to ridden Ohno of his shirt in "Cry for you".


End file.
